The Will of the Force
by UnfathomableDiscrepancy
Summary: Once a decoy queen and now an outlaw, Sabé struggles to come to terms with who she is, and where her destiny will lead her. [sequel to Restoring Diplomacy. Takes place between 30 BBY up until the end of AotC. Slow-burn Sabewan]
1. Prologue - Weight of a World

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Prologue – Weight of a World_

* * *

The awful shadow of some unseen Power

Floats though unseen among us; visiting

This various world with as inconstant wing

As summer winds that creep from flower to flower;

Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,

It visits with inconstant glance

Each human heart and countenance

~"Hymn to the Intellectual Beauty" by Percy Shelley

* * *

 _I am a mask. Meant to be seen but not heard. Perceived, but not understood. I adorn the scene as a silent, vacant entity. White-faced and ornate. It is a cruel sort of irony, being trapped in a cage of beauty while the ugliness of war roams free._

 _A collective chorus of carefree laughter rings through a claustrophobic scene: Crowds of people are donned in gowns, gloves, and sashes. It is crowded. The rustles of dresses and movement of dancing causes lights to swim in the kaleidoscope of beauty._

 _Amidst the swirl of activity, a lantern is knocked from its place along the wall and rests at the foot of a long tapestry. A flame ignites in the opulent room. The guests are so immersed in their own trivial pursuits that they are ignorant of the fire that they have started._

 _I stand by, helpless, watching the tragedy unfold. I see the flames begin to lick the curtains, the hems of gowns, then along the painted flesh of the expensive guests. They laugh at their friends as they alight, but the laughter transforms into terror when the fire seizes them as well. The heat is soon overwhelming and I am blinded by it until the flame's hunger ebbs away into nothingness, revealing a new scene._

 _I am a solitary figure trapped in the wake of devastation. I am to observe the consequences of my silence and passivity. The opulent ballroom has been reduced to ash, and the burnt bodies scatter the ground._

 _Just beyond the aftermath, the surrounding area is marred with war torn fields, and a sky that has been ravaged with shrapnel and debris. Dead bodies, scorched skies, derelict ships…Yet I stand unscathed in the midst of it all. I walk slowly through the scene, careful not to step on any of the dead._

 _I approach a lone tree. Its limbs are sturdy, though contorted and angular. At the canopy of the tree I hear the giggles of two little girls. One with brown hair and the other with hair whiter than a blanket of freshly fallen snow. They are clamoring up the tree with excitement and elation, seemingly ignorant of the destruction that lurks below them._

 _The ground collapses from beneath me, and the dream changes. I see glaring, bloodshot eyes with yellow irises. They are all I see, and they are impossibly big as they intrude upon the encroaching darkness. Behind the pupils of each eye, plumes of angry fire dance as though caught by wisps of a harsh wind. As my gaze draws closer, the eyes turn their focus directly toward me, penetrating my very soul._

 _I want to scream, but cannot._

 _The eyes fade from sight, yet I can still feel them watching. Waiting._

 _An enormous vessel intercedes the veil of night. It glides imperiously between the stars, slow and magnificent; oblivious to the menacing eyes that lurk beneath the cosmic blanket of space._

 _I sense the danger before it happens. Then I watch the glory of the barge detonate into an explosion of death and debris. Only fragments remain._

 _I close my eyes, desperate to clear the image from my mind. A red crystallized stone emerges into my mind's eye, warm and comforting. I know this stone. It is the Jewel of Zenda…a royal jewel gifted to me from the queen herself. It begins to glow, emitting a bronze light._

" _Sabé," a voice calls my name. It is feminine, neutral, and regal. There is a comforting familiarity to the voice that I cannot place, and I find that I am yearning to hear more of what the voice may have to say._

 _But the voice melts away from my dream and coaxes me back to the waking world._


	2. Courtly Disorder

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter One – Courtly Disorder_

* * *

 **30 BBY**

 _ **Theed Palace, Naboo: Handmaiden's Chambers**_

"Sabé. Wake up."

I stirred from sleep, bleary-eyed and disoriented as my mind shifted back into lucidity.

"What is it?" I mumbled, raising a hand to the back of my head. I could already feel a headache begin to thrum mercilessly into existence. The cogs of my mind churned while I reoriented back into consciousness. I was in bed, snug under covers. No blazing fires, no warzones. No death or danger. It was just another terrible dream.

"The Queen requires your presence." The voice that woke me was Saché. Her tone was hushed and soothing. I blinked my eyes into focus as I looked back at my colleague.

"At this hour?" I groaned.

"I'm afraid so. Get up, sleepyhead."

Feeling a little more awake, I finally recalled why I was being summoned. Heaving a sigh, I sat up in bed and disentangled myself, removing bed sheets and resituating the gold chain of my necklace. The blood-red gem felt warm against my skin, and I was reminded briefly of the final image in my passing dream. The recollection stirred a fresh wave of uneasiness inside me. Rather than giving it any merit, I tucked the feeling away and did likewise with the Zenda stone. Out of sight and out of mind. I was no stranger to unsettling dreams. They had been my frequent companion ever since I first became a handmaiden all those years ago.

"Is she in her quarters?" I asked Saché while she donned me in a blue silk robe.

"Yes," she replied, ushering me to the door that adjoined the handmaiden's chamber to the Queen's private quarters.

I was too tired to pay any mind to my surroundings. I felt like I was swimming in syrup, groggy with sleep, and jaded with having to work so early in the morning.

Padmé was already dressed and ready to face the day. She wore a simple brown leather smock, braced with a green waistband. Her dark grey pants billowed freely from her calves to her ankles, permitting a subtle flair of femininity to the otherwise bland attire. She was in the midst of plaiting her hair into a series of long braids as I passed her.

"Morning, Padmé," I said, plopping myself onto the seat that faced her vanity. I couldn't be bothered to pretend that I was excited to play my part.

"Good morning, Sabé," Padmé replied casually. If she detected my apathy, she pretended not to notice. There had been a lot of that going on lately.

Saché had already set to work in turning me into an ornamental spectacle. I stared vacantly at the mirror for the entire process, unaffected by the tugging of the comb against my tangled brown hair.

It had been two standard years since Naboo had been held captive by the Trade Federation. Two years since I played the part of a lifetime and in doing so contributed to the salvation of our people. But it didn't take long for the euphoria of our liberation to transform into lethargy. The planet's global security had become a newly accepted configuration of our society, and we were now at peace with the amphibious Gungan warriors that were native to the planet. We had every reason to feel comfortable with our new protective assets.

With so much extra security encompassing our people and monarch, my role as the decoy queen had quickly become taken for granted. Not deliberately, of course. But my capabilities ensured Padmé to be able to get more work done in a faster span of time. Now, more often than not, whenever I was needed, it was to keep her throne warm while she traipsed around the world to negotiate matters with allies or to resolve civil disputes in Naboo's various cities. I was no longer protecting her in the way that I had been trained to do. And I had long since given up arguing with Padmé about it. The fact remained that she'd be less likely to be in danger when she wasn't under the guise of royalty.

In many ways, the Amidala persona felt like a separate entity all her own…She was a costume that Padmé and I could don interchangeably—and sometimes simultaneously. She was a figurehead, a symbol, an affecter of change. Padmé and I merely served as her mouthpiece.

And I had grown sick of it.

I was ordained to protect and serve. That was the mantra of my sisterhood, the Order of Sanctuary. But instead of protecting, _serving_ seemed to be bearing most of the weight for the past two years. More often than not, I stood solitary in the role of queen while Padmé found other means to keep herself preoccupied. She was too busy to be left alone with her thoughts, and conversely, I was thereby cursed with the role of having nothing _but_ my thoughts…I felt that my stronger skills were at risk of fading behind the growing barrier that was encompassed by my constant charade. I was no longer the protector that I was meant to be.

"Who will be escorting you this time?" I asked Padmé, still immobile while Saché worked on my hair.

"Dané and her team from the Naboo Underground will oversee security," Padmé said. "Beyond that, the Jedi Council was also kind enough to send a Jedi ambassador to help establish settlement on Ohma-D'un."

"Did they specify who that might be?" I asked the question before I could stop myself. Padmé probably knew all too well who had crossed my mind at the mention of the Jedi.

"They didn't say," Padmé said with a mild sigh. "But I imagine they'd send someone who had some background knowledge in Gungan culture. I was told I would meet them on the moon's landing bay."

"I suppose you should get going, then," I replied, casting my eyes her direction. "You wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting."

"I'm just about ready," Padmé assured me, tying her braids into a consolidated knot. Then she reached into the drawer of one of her ebony dressers and pulled out a small, handcrafted necklace: A simple charm made of ivory wood and attached to a leather strap.

I had seen the object many times before. Padmé insisted that she wore it for good luck. But I knew that she wore it as a remembrance of her time on Tatooine when we narrowly escaped imprisonment on Naboo. The memories of that voyage were impossible to forget, even for me. The boy who had crafted that necklace for Padmé had single handedly saved our planet. Beyond that, I was certain that Padmé wore the talisman as a reminder that her friendship with young Anakin Skywalker had been the solace that kept her going during our time of tribulation, much the same way that Obi-Wan Kenobi had been for me.

Unlike Padmé, however, I did not receive a keepsake from Obi-Wan upon his departure. Instead, I kept a small green quoit ball that I had childishly memorialized and kept in a jewelry box under my bed. The memories that attached to the object were among my most precious and painful.

"All set," Padmé said at last. "Panaka will be seeing me off in the hangar, making sure my presence remains undetected," she said. "Stay in here until he notifies you that I've left Theed."

I rolled my eyes. "I know the drill by now, Padmé. Go relocate Gungans already." I had intended to sound playful, but my mood didn't match my tone, and the overall vibe came out as sarcastic instead.

"All right," Padmé lifted her hands in mock surrender. "I'm leaving, then. I'll be back later today."

"We'll be here," I assured her.

This response seemed to satisfy her. So she left.

As of late, the Gungans had been having an overpopulation problem. Naboo had more land than water. Gungans were predominantly water-dwelling creatures, and their mortality rate was increasing faster than their confined territories could contain. So a repopulation solution had been presented, and the votes were overwhelming in assent for the project. The Gungans simply needed to be transported from Naboo to our water moon Ohma-D'un. The humans of Naboo had the resources to make that happen, but it was still a politically tenuous move. Padmé insisted on being present to avoid any potential calamities. Our alliance with the Gungans was still a new one, and prohibiting xenophobia was still a reality that needed to be handled with tact and care.

So while Padmé went off to do her diplomatic duty, I would now be confined to the throne room, listening to Governer Bibble prattle on about his opinions regarding various matters of state. The very thought of having to sit through another meeting with the Advisory Council made me just want to go back and hide under the covers of my bed.

Saché had moved on to my face, dabbing white paint along every square inch. I resigned myself to the application. I could already feel myself fading away as the stoic face of Amidala began to emerge.

* * *

 _ **Later**_

 _ **Theed Palace: Throne Room**_

I was seated amidst a throng of superficial politicians…Chief among them was Kyu Tane, the tall and angular minister of culture; Lufta Shif, the graceful and imposing regent of education; and of course, the peach-faced, talkative governor of Theed: Sio Bibble. The monologues of governor Bibble were as unbearable as they had always been. He meant well, but most of the discourse centered on trivial matters that grossly paled in comparison to the other matters we could have been discussing.

Luckily, being bored had its advantages for me. For starters, being bored I was better able to replicate the monotonous intonation of Amidala without letting my own personality slip through the cracks. Padmé and I looked so similar to each other that even the Advisory Council struggled to tell us apart. My handmaiden counterparts, however, always knew better. Rabé and Yané were seated at my either side, focused intently on the progression of the discourse. They, like me, were silent observers and loyal protectors, hidden beneath cowls and facades.

"The peace treaty with the Gungans is undergoing its fifth amendment protocol," Governor Sio Bibble cautioned. "Enacting mass relocation while the treaty undergoes modifications may pose as a sign of discrimination against the Gungans."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. We had long since exhausted this conversation, but Bibble was insistent on vocalizing his dissatisfaction with our initiative. "A delegate has already been forwarded to the premises on Ohma-D'Un to provide mediation if the need arises," I assured him. "The Gungans have expressed a need, and it is our duty to ensure that those needs are met."

"I don't deny the integrity of our solution," Bibble defended. "But the timing in which we set out to provide aid risks becoming misconstrued by the general public." His chin clenched indignantly, lifting the shrub of his angular white beard.

"And that is why the noble members of this advisory council are to help ensure that our intentions remain unmarred by ambiguity," I retaliated coolly. "Public proceedings must reinforce the desire to maintain peace and prosperity."

It was jargon. All of it. I had heard these debates countless times over the past few years. Even in a time of peace, politicians were restless to find controversies to keep their jobs interesting. It had become a tired old game, and I had grown unnervingly comfortable in being a placeholder for Padmé during these modes of discussion.

" _I recommend that we provide the Gungans with a political voice of their own,"_ offered Senator Horace Vancil. He was communing with us via hologram while in his office at Coruscant.

Vancil was the third senator to represent Naboo since the Invasion. After Palpatine had been elected as the Supreme Chancellor, he was replaced by Janus Greejatus, whose discriminatory leanings resulted in a premature expulsion after two years of service. Vancil was originally a member of the Royal Advisory Council and Padmé had often sought his services for political and economic insight. Due to this, she nominated him as Greejatus' replacement. Vancil's election had taken place about three standard months ago, but he was already making valuable contributions as our representative to the Galactic Republic.

I cast my eyes at the older gentleman. His hue was a faded blue; static and grainy due to the nature of holographic transmissions, but I could see the kindness of his face with perfect clarity. He was sitting comfortably on his office chair at Coruscant, with his hands folded over his stomach. His dark overcoat fell dramatically along the sides of the chair. While his outfit was stiff, his demeanor was kind and contemplative. I was grateful for his apparent sentiment. The Advisory Council had been sorely lacking that quality ever since his departure.

"Explain," I entreated the senator.

Horace leaned forward in his seat, eager to take the floor. _"The Gungans have been relatively contained within their own cultural domain,"_ he prefaced. _"But they presently have no representation in the Galactic Senate. It is my belief that opening that possibility for them will reinforce the validity of our allegiance. Furthermore, it will ensure autonomy within their own political regime."_

"A planet cannot have more than one senator," Sio Bibble contradicted, not unkindly.

Kyu Tane spoke up. His voice was as thin and weak as his scrawny figure. "But we _are_ within our bounds to have multiple representatives to contribute to influencing fairness in votes. It would be a credit to our sovereignty to engage in equity between our intra-planetary societies."

Vancil agreed. _"And now that many Gungans are resituating on one of our unoccupied water moons that is all the more reason to invite them into Galactic representation."_

"Submit a query to the Gungan High Council," I said to Horace Vancil. "Their response will indicate if it is a viable course of action."

This was a common strategy for me: deflecting my "executive power" until Padmé would be able to not only voice the full extent of her opinion, but also carry out whatever decrees she needed to implement in the process. It was a stalling technique, and I had mastered it into an art form.

Vancil nodded graciously. _"It shall be done, Your Majesty. I will keep you informed of—the process—reputation of—monarchy—…"_

Vancil's hologram flickered into nonexistence. My stomach sank as though I had just swallowed heavy stones.

Rapidly, my brain starting cataloging possible reasons as to why Vancil had been cut off: Was the transmission weak? It couldn't be. Our range in the Chommell sector wasn't too far from Coruscant. But technical flukes weren't an impossibility. Were we being jammed? Last time that happened, our planet was under attack by the Trade Federation. I hoped that our comfort in tranquility hadn't once again blinded us from danger.

It turned out to be neither scenario. Vancil's hologram had been intercepted by another signal, and a new face emerged on the holographic screen in the center of the throne room. I was well practiced at masking my surprise, but nothing prepared me for the face that took over the hologram.

 _"This is Kasaré Veruna, former princess of Theed. I seek an audience with Queen Amidala. Alone. It is a matter of the upmost importance."_

Captain Panaka gave a sharp look at one of the security technicians. The younger man shrugged helplessly back at Panaka, unable to mask his bemusement as he toggled with the control panel.

" _I've overridden Senator Vancil's signal,"_ Kasaré said _. "You won't be able to track this transmission; nor can it be recorded."_

Kasaré Veruna was the niece of Amidala's elected predecessor Ars Veruna. With her light blond hair, piercing eyes and dazzling spray of freckles, there was no denying that she was the spitting image of her uncle. After King Veruna's exile from office, Kasaré had appointed herself as a candidate for the crown as a political competitor to Padmé. During the early days of my service to Padmé, I had attended the election gala that took place right before the campaign's conclusion. That night, Kasaré had arranged for a bounty hunter named Zam Wesell to assassinate Padmé. Luckily, I had been able to impersonate Padmé during that time and successfully managed to prevent Zam from completing her mission.

Wesell had been arrested, and Kasaré was then exiled in the same way her uncle had been. She was stripped of her title and sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of her days. Shortly after her arrest, Zam Wesell also managed to escape from our prisons. The ease of her escape indicated another motive at play. But of course no further investigation was made after the incident, as everyone was far more preoccupied with handling the economic dispute that was taking place with the Trade Federation. To add insult to injury, Kasaré had _also_ managed to escape amidst the chaos of Naboo's invasion and had since fallen off our radar.

Seeing Kasaré's face on the hologram made my head spin with the recollection of these past events. I wasn't quite sure how to conjure a proper response to her demand. Everyone in the Advisory Council was equally agog at the sight. For Kasaré to have the gall to make her presence known to the Queen was nothing short of shocking.

"What in the name of Shiraya gives you the _audacity_ to make demands to the Queen?" Bibble spluttered, invoking the name of Amidala's patron goddess.

"I wish to hear what she has to say," I interjected stoically. My comment elicited astonishment from everyone in the room.

I knew what needed to be done. Kasaré was taking an enormous risk to project herself into our lives again. Whatever she had to say, it must have been exceedingly important, because it would inevitably cost her the luxury of her current freedom. The Royal Guard would hunt her down like sabercats as soon as Panaka gave them leave to do so.

"Your highness, the woman is a fugitive; and a dangerous one at that," Panaka reminded me gruffly. "Nothing she says can be trusted."

I flashed my eyes at him, releasing a hint of severity. "Do not attempt to dissuade me, captain," I rebuffed. Panaka had been the man who had sought me out and brought me to the Order of Sanctuary. He was the captain of the guard, my mentor, and in many ways, he was like a father figure to me. But I refused to be cowed by his superiority over me while I held the visage of the queen.

"This is absolutely appalling," Bibble said indignantly. "She can't possibly have anything to say that is worth our time."

I saw it differently. Listening to Kasaré was _guaranteed_ to be a better use of my time than having to put up with any more of Bibble's petty opinionating. The collective disapproval had reached intolerable proportions.

"Then I will reprieve you of your time spent here, governor, and speak to Veruna alone," I said, lifting my chin authoritatively, daring him to challenge my command.

Bibble's face turned an angry shade of red, but in the company of others, he was trapped into submitting to my order. The rest of the Advisory Council took the hint and silently retreated from the room, bowing as they left. Bibble, flustered and aggravated, followed suit, but not without first imparting his last word on the subject: "Do not trust her," he said conspiratorially. "She's got the ilk of her uncle's influence."

"Your concern has been duly noted, governor." My royal voice was as cold and thin as ice. "Dismissed."

Bibble puffed out his chest in affront, and made his departure.

"You as well, captain," I said when I noticed Panaka hadn't moved.

He gave me a dour look. "Your highness, I don't think this is a good idea," he said through gritted teeth.

I inclined my head towards Rabé and Yané, who still sat diligently in their respective chairs. "My handmaidens will more than suffice for the private audience that Kasaré has requested."

Kasaré interjected _"Actually, it is vital that I speak to Your Majesty alone."_

I gave a pointed glare at the fugitive. "You will speak in the audience of myself and my counterparts or not at all," I said sternly.

Kasaré hesitated, eyed Rabé and Yané distrustfully, but then gave consent to my stipulation.

Panaka followed after the Advisory Council, scowling with every step. He wasn't happy, but was at least mollified by the compromise. I knew I'd get an earful from him when I resumed my role as handmaiden, which was nothing I wasn't used to by now.

I waited until the door sealed shut before engaging with Kasaré.

"Proceed." Best let her get this over with.

" _I have called on you in an effort to clear my name. I am innocent of the wrongdoings that I have been accused of,"_ Kasaré said assertively. _"I have evidence that the integrity of the Naboo Security Forces has been compromised since well before your election."_

"As I recall, Zam Wesell openly confessed the identity of her client." I retorted drily. "The transaction occurred through a hologram that was later pinpointed to your homing signal. We had all the proof we needed to incriminate you."

Kasaré shook her head insistently, _"That's only the tip of the iceberg,"_ she said. _"Your Royal Guard conveniently neglected to investigate the matter any further. The communication device_ was _mine, but I wasn't involved in the interaction with Wesell. During my exile I searched relentlessly for possible manipulations that may have corrupted the image of the hologram."_

I withheld a scoff. That seemed unlikely. It was security protocol to scrub data to ensure the validity of the information. But I couldn't deny I was intrigued by what she may have uncovered. The fact that she managed to abscond with secured evidence was a testament of her hacking capabilities. Exile must have given her a little too much free time.

She continued: _"I was unable to detect any artificial overlays. But this led me to the conclusion that I must have been betrayed by one of my own."_

"What are you saying?"

" _Impersonation, your highness,"_ Kasaré said. _"It is not an unlikely scenario given the nature of work that is appointed to a handmaiden."_

I should have found the notion utterly ridiculous. As a member of the Order myself, I should have been offended, even outraged. But the accusation had plausible merit, and I found myself intrigued by the supposition.

But, as I was not myself in this scenario, I maintained a resolute skepticism to the situation. "As a former electoral candidate, you know all too well what training is involved for handmaidens assuming their roles," I replied. "The Order of Sanctuary prioritizes their recruitment search towards those with unwavering loyalty to their superiors."

" _Which is precisely why I feel that perhaps the Order's motivations are not as honorable as it is claimed to be."_

I straightened up in my seat. This was the boldest accusation she had thrown yet. "If you're implying treason—"

" _I am,"_ Kasaré was unflinching in her resolve. _"My handmaidens had been appointed to me the same night as the election gala when the assassination occurred. And the date stamp on the hologram indicates that Zam Wesell was contacted two weeks prior to that."_

The part about the handmaiden's date of employment I knew to be true. That night of the gala was also when _I_ had been assigned to Padmé. That fact alone should have made Kasaré's theory of insubordination an impossibility. I wasn't sure where she was going with this _._

" _The only way one of my handmaidens could have gotten away with the con is if one of her superiors were involved in some way. It would have to be someone who knew she would be assigned to me—and may have even been the one to place her into my retinue in the first place."_

"Such an accusation requires proof," I said. "And you wouldn't risk the suggestion unless you had something to back your case."

" _The Order's information database is near impossible to hack into, and even more difficult to decrypt."_ Kasaré admitted. _"But I did manage to uncover a list of names attached to the inner sanctum of the Order."_

Kasaré's face was replaced by a window of encrypted information, and was then zoomed in on the list of names she referred to.

I couldn't deny that I was supremely interested in seeing this information. The overseers of our Order had always been under complete anonymity.

" _Many of the names listed here are members of your Advisory Council,"_ Kasaré said. _"And_ all _of them had access to the handmaiden assignment charts. Based on these records, the only two accounts that had been manipulated repeatedly were for two political candidates, namely myself and Your Majesty's."_

"What information was modified?" I asked, beginning to feel apprehension slip through my queenly resolve.

" _I'm still trying find that out,"_ Kasaré said. _"But it's a place to start. If I could, I'd question my former handmaidens as well as the key members of your Advisory Council. But I can't come your way without being arrested. I need your help in this, Amidala."_

"And why should I trust you?"

" _I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to find answers. Until the truth is uncovered, we won't know who to trust. And until then your life will continue to be in danger."_


	3. Honor Bound

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Two – Honor Bound_

* * *

 _ **Theed Palace, Naboo**_

As soon as Kasaré's hologram went offline, my counterparts spared no moment to make their opinions known.

Yané had risen from her chair and glared angrily at me. "Are you out of your _mind,_ Sabé?" she demanded incredulously.

Rabé sat poised and still, but her body was tight with controlled anger. Her sharp dark eyes and angular features only further accentuated her quiet ferocity. "What were you thinking? Kasaré has done _nothing_ to earn our trust."

"Kasaré also has nothing to gain by engaging with us," I pointed out. "There is no harm in investigating the possibility of her accusation. If we find nothing, we'll have at least managed to placate her. But if there is even a _shred_ of truth to her accusation, then at least we will be prepared to deal with it when the time comes."

"It is more likely that her information was fabricated," Yané countered.

"And why would she make this up?" I asked

"To condemn the monarchy," she said simply. "If she digs up enough dirt against the government, Kasaré could spin any argument she likes to publically taint the Amidala administration. Her motive may well be to overthrow Amidala and reign in her place. If we accept to do the grunt work of an investigation that she can't touch, we will be digging our own political graves."

"That suggestion is just as outrageous as Kasaré's accusation," I retorted. "But at least Kasaré had evidence."

"I hardly think that a partially decrypted database constitutes as evidence," Rabé said. "She never even submitted the details of that list to us. It's not sufficient information, not by a long shot."

"And even if her allegation is true, this is not something we have the authority to investigate, Sabé."

"Have we really grown so complacent in our time of peace that we've forgotten our primary directive?" I was growing frustrated. "We are to protect our queen. She is and always will be our top priority."

"And the founders of that very directive are now the ones being accused of misconduct." Rabé said. "Do you see the flaw in that logic?"

"Technically, Kasaré said that the _Advisory Council_ may have had more to do with the manipulations. And that's not too horribly far-fetched, since most of them served under Ars Veruna as well. Something may have thrived in the underbelly of his political scandal after his exile. The Order may still be innocent."

"Or the entire dilemma is a farce." Yané wouldn't budge from her opinion on the matter.

My assertion was just as fixed. I couldn't deny that my counterparts had raised good points, but I also couldn't dismiss the possibility that Kasaré may have been on to something. I wouldn't be able to live with myself she turned out to be right and I had done nothing to stop it.

I sighed. Arguing with my colleagues clearly wasn't going to accomplish anything. "I deflected my executive power," I reminded them. "And I've made no promises to Kasaré. I only assured her that we would deliberate the matter and provide an answer the next time she makes contact."

" _If_ she makes contact…" Yané muttered.

"Padmé isn't going to like this." Rabé said, rubbing her temples wearily.

"Make of Kasaré what you will. I still think that the issue is worth pursuing," I said. "And I intend to unravel this mystery regardless of what Padmé's reaction might be."

"You can't be serious." Yané said, dumbstruck. "If Padmé dismisses Veruna's plea, you would have no authority to begin an investigation. You'd be a cohort of a fugitive. That's grounds enough for imprisonment."

"Then I'll examine the situation from a different angle," I replied. "Rather than interrogating the Advisory Council, I could just look for Kasaré's former retinue. Enquiring with them puts me well within my legal bounds."

"Don't be ridiculous. Whomever you question, the situation would remain the same. Don't do this, Sabé." Yané's voice was firm, but her eyes were pleading.

"I refuse to be held back by procedural inhibitions. The last time we were sequestered to protocol, we endured a _global invasion_. If we let ourselves be dampened by authorities who are used to bending the rules that they create, then we will have lost all semblance of true protection. Now are you both going to help me or not?"

Yané hesitated. "I won't sell you out," she said, crossing her arms. "That's the best I am willing to do. If you get caught, you're on your own."

"Very well," I said, gracious she was willing to afford me her silence. I turned to look at Rabé. She had leaned forward in her seat, her brows furrowing as she internally debated her response. I waited.

Rabé heaved a sigh before saying "I'm in. What must we do?"

I gave a moment's pause. "For now, we'll play it status quo," I said.

Rabé looked relieved. "All right. I can do status quo."

I wasn't sure how long this process would take, but I knew that I had to tread carefully. Time would have to be a factor to which I'd need to permit patience. If I was too foolhardy in my investigation, I would be revoked of my status as both a handmaiden and a decoy queen. It was unlikely that Padmé would sentence me to long term imprisonment, but the risk still bore weight. Not to mention, with Rabé's willing assistance, I felt even more inclined to refrain from my usual impulsive nature. I was more willing to risk _my_ reputation than hers.

"We still have three other appointments to attend before Padmé returns. I don't want to raise any more suspicion than I already have."

"Are you going to tell Padmé and the others?" Yané asked.

I wouldn't be ready to tell Panaka yet; he was too close to the Advisory Council and the birthing of the Order. I definitely wanted to inform Padmé, but I didn't want to springboard the information on her too quickly. I needed evidence of my own first before I could convince her of anything. Eirtaé retired about a year ago in favor of becoming a housewife. And the new handmaiden protégées were from a different generation within the Order. I wasn't ready to trust them yet. Not in this matter. Saché, however…I knew that Saché would want to be involved if Zam Wesell was entangled in Kasaré's conspiracy.

Saché had been the only one among the handmaidens to suffer through torture at the hands of the Trade Federation and Zam was one of two mercenaries that had been hired for the job. I had found her after the liberation of Naboo, and to this day, the memory of her trauma still haunted me.

The experience had changed Saché to the core. She was no longer the imposing, overconfident leader that she used to be. Depression and depersonalization kept her in constant company. It wasn't long after her recovery that she decided to back down from her formal duties as handmaiden, and requested to serve simply as an aide instead. Her role now entailed waking us, dressing us, maintaining our living spaces, and running mediocre errands. The simplicity of her new role managed to eliminate the worst of her mental unrest. And while that relieved the rest of us, it left Saché perpetually frustrated with her mental inhibitions.

She and I both felt a particular resentment towards Zam Wesell. Finding Zam's real employers would lead us closer to finding Zam. And putting _her_ to justice would give us both a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite her shortcomings, I had no doubts of Saché's willingness to be involved.

I relayed my answer to Yané. "When I have incriminating information to bring to the table, I will inform Padmé and possibly Panaka. Otherwise, I'd like to keep this secret contained within the primary cadre of handmaidens. If the Order of Sanctuary has indeed been corrupted, then any handmaidens may be culpable, so it is better that fewer know of our intentions."

I had always been a guardian of secrets. But I had a strange sense of ownership with this particular secret. I was drawn to the desire of it. My hollow façade had finally fractured and a new sense of purpose began to seep into me. I refused to decay as an idle shell of a girl. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had agency in my life again. The concept was a dangerous one, but the compulsion to act on it was too delectable an opportunity to ignore.

* * *

At long last I had completed my separate delegations with the Supreme Judicial Court, the Duke of Moenia, _and_ the superintendent of Theed's Academy of Education. It was another long, exhausting morning. Padmé had informed me yesterday on what my stance was to be for each conversation and what results I was to push for. Which was easy enough for most interactions.

The Duke of Moenia was a residual pain in the neck, though. I had the misfortune of engaging in an hour-long discussion with him. He was a haughty, voracious man who had been as adamant about expanding his provincial property line as Amidala was in containing it. Thankfully, after I had convinced him that being too ambitious in procuring land would result in financial disaster he relented…but only _after_ I allowed a compromise by letting him raise the tourist tax. Since Moenia was such a highly sought-out place for vacationers, I knew that the additional costs wouldn't inhibit progress in financial savings. The entire exchange felt like a verbal arm wrestle, but by the end of it, we had both departed feeling satisfied with our results. Before I knew it, my tasks as decoy had finally neared completion. The throne room was now delightfully silent.

For a time, anyway.

Panaka, naturally, was still churlish about his earlier dismissal. For most of the morning, I had managed to shield myself from his aggressions by keeping ignorant dignitaries nearby. I knew that would only last me so long. As predicted, by the time all of my appointments were completed, Panaka asserted the full extent of his disapproval in how I handled the situation with Kasaré Veruna.

"I was perfectly safe," I defended. "I neglect to see how having a holographic conversation qualifies as dangerous."

"It's not about the conversation," Panaka growled. "You accommodated and submitted to the demands of a _criminal_."

"I simply gave Veruna an opportunity to vocalize her discontent," I countered. "I made no promises to her. She knew better than to believe that the monarchy would trust what she had to say."

"And what _did_ she say?"

With Panaka, it was better to be partially honest than fully deceitful. "She's clinging desperately to the belief of her innocence," I said. "She wants her good reputation back. Nothing more."

Panaka looked to Yané and Rabé for confirmation.

"She speaks the truth," Yané said evenly.

"Princess Veruna poses no threat," Rabé assured him.

Panaka was wary but satisfied. With no way of accessing the holographic data, their allegation of the situation would have to do. He crossed his arms and looked back at me, softening his scowl. "Don't do anything like that again," he said firmly.

"Yes sir," I said meekly, raising my shoulders to my ears for good measure. Let him think I was kowtowed by his authority. I didn't want to drag out the conversation any longer than I had to.

Panaka's comlink chirped for his attention. He held up the receiver. "Panaka," he said curtly.

 _"A Mantaris-class transport is requesting permission to dock in the main hangar, bearing serial number OD-001."_ a voice crackled from the comlink.

It was Padmé's ship. I knew that with certainty. The Mantaris transport was the first vessel constructed as a hybridization of Gungan and Naboo technology. Its design was to transfer ecological flora and fauna between destinations. It sounded like her diplomatic mission had drawn to a successful close.

"Update acknowledged. Inform the vessel's occupants that the Royal Guard will receive them once they land."

 _"Understood. Dispatching docking protocols."_

"Well 'Your Majesty,' I guess you finally get to resume your usual duties," Panaka said drily.

Praise Shiraya. That meant my next step was to wait in the turret room so that "the Queen" could get a full report from Padmé and her crew of consulates.

"Until then: good day, captain," I said, inclining my head to Panaka. Unamused, he rolled his eyes at my mockery and departed.

"He didn't seem horribly fazed by Kasaré's plea of innocence," Rabé observed. "You think he knows anything?"

"If he did, I think he preferred masking it with his aggravation toward me," I said. "It's too soon to be sure of anything."

"But you _can_ be sure that hunting down Kasaré is next on his list of priorities," Yané said assertively. "If I were you I'd keep close tabs on how that endeavor progresses." She paused, caught herself, and then repeated, "if I were you."

I gave her a lopsided smile. She may yet change her mind. I didn't want to push my luck if she had an inkling of interest.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get to the turret room. We have one more appointment to see through."

As we made our commute, I observed the numerous marble statues that aligned in the vast hallways. Some alternated between pillars and windows, while others occupied their own niches that pocketed the vast estate. I'd glided past them often enough that my mind had a tendency to automatically catalog each statue's regal representation as I crossed. It was as much an idle mind game as it was an exercise. Queen Jarma, King Jafan II, Queen Yram, King Narmlé, Queen Minrota….

 _Sabé Evoria._

I heard the voice again. Eerie, regal, familiar. I swerved in search of the source, causing my colleagues to step back in surprise.

"Are you all right?" Rabé inquired.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, feeling my heartbeat knock loudly against my chest. Hearing it in dreams was one thing…but in the conscious world? The last time I had experienced that was prior to the funeral of Master Qui-Gon Jinn almost three years ago.

"Hear what?" Yané asked guardedly.

"That voice…" I said, my certainty waning. They couldn't hear it, and I just looked like a raving idiot.

"What voice?" Rabé asked.

I tried to shake off my sudden anxiety, and smothered it with a wave of fake exhaustion. "I…never mind. I'm operating on high stress and little sleep. I suppose I'm just hearing things."

"You should get some rest when Padmé returns," Rabé said sympathetically.

"Perhaps I might," I responded eliciting a self-deprecating laugh. I knew Rabé could see right through me, recognizing my apprehension. She was the best among us at interpreting micro-expressions. But she respectfully pretended to overlook my charade.

In truth, sleep was the last thing I wanted. If the voice had penetrated through my dreams and into reality, I wasn't sure I would be brave enough to face the wielder of such a power.

We recommenced our commute; but before I reached the turret room, I slipped a brief glance back at the corridor…as though I might discover the cause of my unrest in the vacancy of the hall.

But the row of statues all stood proud and immobile, revealing nothing.

* * *

As obvious as the possibility should have been to me, the sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi still took me entirely by surprise. The reality of seeing him again seemed too…convenient. Too providential; but his past involvement with Naboo and the native communities made him an ideal ambassador to the project on Ohma-D'un.

His hair had grown longer, and had brightened from soft auburn into a distinctive shade of blond; but beyond that, the span of two years had not changed him in the slightest. He still had the same kind blue eyes, quiet demeanor, and wickedly charming smile.

Not unlike today, he had often prompted the same smile back in the day whenever he recognized me as Sabé beneath the layers of regalia. His knowing smirk was a simple action, but it only reawakened the familiar ache I had once felt for him.

He diligently played his part as Padmé and her group of ecologists debriefed me on the mission. Evidently, there was still work to do in implementing environmental flora and fauna, and the transport system for the Gungans' mass relocation was still far from finished; but the organizational efforts to enact the project had concluded with overwhelming success. I gave them my formal congratulations on their endeavor and assured them of the sovereignty's continued support.

"The Advisory Council expressed a concern for any socio-political ramifications that may have resulted from the migration," I said, prefacing my inquiry. "Am I to understand that there was no dissent from the Gungans associated with the project?"

"None at all, Your Majesty," Obi-Wan replied. "Your delegate Padmé and I had an open conversation with the civilians en route to Ohma-D'un. During the commute, we had determined what issues prompted further discussion."

Padmé nodded and filled in. "Their primary focus was on assurances of the moon's sustainability and the protocols for developing the new underwater cities. Their promised cooperation enabled an increase in productivity."

"It was evident that they were eager to be involved in the process," Obi-Wan assured me.

"The Naboo thanks you for your diligence and involvement on this matter."

"And we are most humbled by your gracious support, Your Highness," an elderly mustached professor of Ecology spoke up from the back of the group. Padmé had introduced him earlier as Hallem Celaar. "I must say the experience was unlike anything I had ever dreamed of. Our research indicates the promise of a thriving ecosystem with the moon and its new inhabitants."

I gave a vague Amidala smile. "I am glad to hear it. You are to be guests of Theed Palace until such a time arises for you to resume your duties," I declared. "I expect this process will involve your further involvement in the times to come."

It was a brief meeting. Other than extending my royal invitation, the meeting had been rather needless. To be honest I wondered at their even showing up at all. The pomp and circumstance was largely unnecessary if Padmé was directly involved. Upon my departure, I dismissed Obi-Wan and Padmé's ragtag group of botanical engineers.

Padmé fell into step with me as Rabé, Yané and I made our venture back towards the Queen's private chamber.

"Today must have gone exceedingly well," Padmé commented as we reentered the privacy of her room.

"What makes you say that?" I said, eagerly removing my heavy Shirayan headdress. Yané retrieved it and set it on the nearest end table.

Padmé took her seat so that Saché could get to work. From her vanity, Padmé casted a wry glance towards me from her mirror. "You seem happier since I left this morning."

I rolled my eyes "Well, unlike this morning, I'm actually _awake_ now." Rabé and Yané began to disrobe me, and I assisted their process while we conversed.

"Did you have any arguments with the Advisory Council today? Your steps are always lighter after getting under Bibble's skin." Padmé probed, undeterred by my deflection.

"I would never compromise the Amidala persona out of idle irritation. You should know this by now." I said drily. I worried about the conversation detouring to Bibble's premature dismissal and Kasaré's message, and I was not ready to venture into that conversation yet.

"I think it may have had more to do with seeing Master Kenobi," Rabé redirected, sharing in my unspoken disquiet. She gave me an apologetic look as she uttered the Jedi's name. She knew that in most cases I would resent her for bringing up my apparent infatuation. But she also knew that _any_ conversation with Padmé would be better if the Advisory Council remained taboo for the day. For that, I was grateful that the script of the conversation shifted into something more trivial. Nonverbally, I indicated my thanks to Rabé.

My friendship with Obi-Wan Kenobi was hardly an unknown topic between Padmé and the other handmaidens. They would often tease me; waving around the handwritten note he had left me and dramatizing the accounts of the letter—the contents of which informed that he had located my family during the planet's liberation. Yané would read it theatrically, swooning as she did so. Eirtaé would try to analyze the writing, as if his penmanship would somehow confirm his own infatuation; and Padmé laughingly dismissed the notion altogether, having never had the opportunity to see our friendship firsthand. Only Rabé and Saché knew the truth of how strange and enigmatic my connection was with the Jedi Knight, and I intended to keep it that way.

Since his departure, it had been surprisingly easy to suppress the emotions that I had felt for him back then. Without his presence, those feelings remained tucked away to the point where I wondered if they even still existed. The passage of time often persuaded me in the belief that my feelings were merely repercussive to the events that entangled our growing friendship…but his sudden return to my life now began to implicate something else entirely.

"It was definitely a surprise to see him here," I conceded, allowing the conversation to detour accordingly. "I didn't think he'd report to us after the mission. Jedi Knights are normally expedient in their return to the Jedi Temple upon completion."

Yané nimbly returned with my ochre handmaiden gown, and I donned the outfit with the ease of routine. Simple and elegant, the gentle softness of the handmaiden's fabrics were designed for us disappear in the background of public attendance. The ochre gowns were particularly effective at letting us blend in behind the rays of sun that beamed from vertical windows of the throne room.

"I may have had something to do with that," Padmé said offering a smile. She swiveled in her chair to face me directly. "He was attempting to be nonchalant, but Master Kenobi had numerous questions about your well-being, Sabé. I told him that it might be easier if he just asked you himself."

I groaned. "Padmé, _why?_ "

I was unprepared for Padmé's frank response. "I think part of the reason you've been so sullen is because you haven't been in contact with one of your dearest friends in over two years," she said. "You've fallen into a rhythm of monotony and I can tell that it's been killing you." She gave a mild shrug and continued, "Master Kenobi may be my only hope in restoring the Sabé I remember to be rash and impulsive."

What Padmé saw as idle teasing, I saw as a calculating opportunity. I was now in the perfect position to derail the conversation even further. My retaliation would only be a ruse, but I knew Padmé would fall for it. She was always susceptible to my ire. This would be advantageous to my cause: Diverting Padmé's attention with my temper ensured that Kasaré Veruna would no longer be an immediate topic of conversation.

"That's ridiculous and you _know_ it, Padmé," I scowled, pretending to be offended. "I've had these arguments with you before: My apathy has stemmed from being used as a painted figurehead for public dalliances rather than for your protection. Kenobi has nothing to do with my temperament."

As I anticipated, Padmé's eyes went from playful to irate.

I felt like I was stoking a dangerous fire by provoking her in this way, but at least I could take comfort in knowing that she had expressly missed my argumentative nature. Offhand, I wondered if she missed arguing because she valued my opinion, or if fighting with me simply took the edge off her own anxieties.

"I see," Padmé said, clearly wounded by my verbal animosity. Her reaction was expected, but the extent of her reaction was surprisingly restrained. I hadn't expected her to maintain her resolve.

Yané, not recognizing my intention, intervened quickly in attempts to dilute the sudden tension in the room. "Padmé saw an opportunity to reunite you with an old friend, Sabé," she said calmly. "She made her gesture out of interest and concern for _you_. Not your political role."

"And while I appreciate the apparent concern, Padmé, my bitterness existed _long_ after I had gotten over my feelings for the Jedi Knight. His presence won't nullify how I feel about my altered role as decoy."

"I can see that my assumptions were misled," Padmé said coolly. Probably the closest I would get to an apology. Since I was the instigator, she would leave _that_ part to me.

I waited a couple of beats before resituating to submission. "My apologies, Your Majesty," I said, coddling to her authority. I was never a fan of resorting to false humility, but I had been through this argumentative circuit with her enough times to know that my opinion no longer held as strong a bearing that it used to.

"No apology needed." Padmé said. Her tone was so neutral it almost could have passed as the Amidala inflection. She swiveled back in her chair, revealing the grandiose hairstyle that Saché had diligently completed during our interaction. Her hair was coiled in the same way mine had been: with loops interlocking into a cascade that fell to her waist. The headdress I had adorned earlier would complete the look.

I noticed Saché give me a suspicious glare before returning silently to her handiwork.

Rabé, Yané and I exchanged awkward glances, awaiting Padmé's final word.

"Thank you for all the work you've put in today, Sabé. You may take the rest of the day off." Evidently, deflection was her solution. "Master Kenobi requested to visit you this afternoon. I advise you to acquiesce to the opportunity that has been presented to you."

I realized that by griping about my malcontent, I had also insulted Padmé's attempt at generosity in regards to Kenobi. I softened at this, and made it evident to Padmé. "Very well," I said, "I will do as you say."

Despite my accruing political issues with Padmé, I knew that a visit with Obi-Wan Kenobi was one that was long overdue. I was all too willing to comply to the scenario, even if meant that I risked falling in love with him all over again.


	4. Of Old Friends and Distant Memories

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Three – Of Old Friends and Distant Memories_

* * *

After my exchange with Padmé, I excused myself to the adjoining handmaiden's chamber, partially as a means to gather my belongings in preparation for my free afternoon, but mainly to give myself a breather from my long day of deception. My energy felt completely sapped. I sank wearily into a nearby chaise longue—which was not nearly as comfortable as its lush aesthetic pretended to be. It was just as much of a con artist as I was. I would have laughed at the irony if I wasn't so engulfed in my internalized stress.

Perhaps I had been too foolhardy. It would only be a matter of time before Panaka caught on to my ambitions and punished me accordingly. I felt inundated by the mounting pressure in obtaining much-needed evidence. The sooner I found information to support Kasaré's claims, the sooner I could give Padmé a justifiable reason to concede to a retrial.

The real trick would be finding satisfactory proof before Kasaré attempted to make contact again. I trusted Yané and Rabé to inform Padmé of the bare necessities of that conversation, so Padmé would remain unsurprised if the former princess made further contact. Unfortunately, time was still of the essence, as I did not have the capability to override any jurisdiction on the case. A circumstance such as this called for a resource that would be unaffected by the accord of Nabooian law, and who would be able to adhere to client confidentiality.

In fact, it dawned on me; a Jedi knight would be an _ideal_ candidate for such an enterprise. As luck would have it, I knew exactly where to find one. The stars seemed to align in my favor. It was a narrow constellation to navigate, but it was a bright one nonetheless.

The thought should have invigorated me, but instead, I felt hindered by a fresh wave of apprehension. Before I could even _think_ of enlisting in his help, I needed to figure out how to quell my nerves in the anticipation of seeing Obi-Wan again. Communicating with him while under the guise of queen was one thing—we were both well accustomed to maintaining professionalism when circumstances called for it. But he hadn't spoken with me as myself since...

I was hardly able to breathe life into my rumination before Saché asserted her presence in the room. Evidently, she had completed her work with Padmé, which indicated to me that the Queen had departed with the others to resume her duties. It was down to the two of us.

"All right Sabé, what's really going on?" she demanded, crossing her arms as a means of intimidation. "You haven't touched that argument with Padmé for _months_. And I know you wouldn't let it resurface unless you needed to stall for something."

"I can see nothing gets past you," I observed. I couldn't say I was surprised. While Saché was no longer a handmaiden in the official sense of the word, it didn't mean that her years of intensive training had ceased to exist. She remained well attuned to our collective inscrutability.

"It's a lucky thing that Padmé took your emotional bait," Saché replied. "She may not be so gullible next time."

"I had to do it," I shrugged helplessly. "Padmé can't know of what I've learned today. Not yet. I need more evidence first."

"Evidence? For what? Sabé, is someone in trouble?"

I hesitated. "Padmé might be. Actually, we _all_ might be." I supposed now was as good a time as any to inform Saché of what happened.

Saché raised an eyebrow. "That sentence never bodes well…"

"We received a transmission from Kasaré Veruna," I explained. "She intends to prove her innocence against the assassination attempt that occurred during the election gala."

Saché's eyes darkened for a moment. "Go on…" Zam Wesell had very clearly crossed her mind upon the recollection.

"Kasaré has reason to believe that the entire ordeal was orchestrated by someone within the Royal administration. Or, more specifically, by a Royal collaborator within the Order of Sanctuary. Kasaré's reasonings are…compelling. But that means that the integrity of our sisterhood is now at stake."

Within seconds, Saché had seated herself next to me in a fluid movement of grim urgency. "Tell me _everything_."

* * *

 _ **Afternoon, Guest Quarters**_

I held my breath, uncertain of how to proceed. A palace attendant had graciously informed me of which guest room housed Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now I stood at the door, staring uncomfortably at the last barrier that stood between the Jedi and myself.

Saché agreed that Obi-Wan would be an ideal resource in solving our political predicament, so at least I could hide my worry underneath a blanketed charade of professionalism if we were unable to resume our bantering dynamic from years ago. I hardly knew if we were the same people that we had been during the reclamation of Naboo. This next conversation would reveal where we stood with each other. And being on the cusp between not knowing and finding out left me feeling nervous beyond compare.

With a brief clenching of my fist, and a determined swallow, I mustered the courage to raise my fingers to the door's access panel. I pressed the grey button on the console, alerting him of my presence. A toggle pivoted on the panel, and a soft blue light flared in response. Then the door breathed open, giving me access to the room.

"Hello, Sabé," came the familiar voice, warm and friendly. "Do come in."

I obliged the invitation. He was out of sight from my direct line of vision, but I easily traced the location of his voice upon my entrance.

The room was bright, expansive, and elegant, as was the case in every room of the palace. Yet despite the room's vastness, it gave off a comfortable impression of simplicity, which seemed more than befitting for our Jedi guest.

Obi-Wan had stationed himself behind a marble countertop along the far side of the room, busying himself with the portable tea station.

I tugged nervously at my necklace, as if the motion might give me both solace and mettle. "Hello, stranger," I said, offering a smile. "I heard from a certain queen that you had requested a visit from me."

Obi-Wan briefly paused from his task and returned a smile of his own. "You heard correct," he responded lightly. "I couldn't resist the request. In my line of work, it's not often that I get the opportunity to reacquaint myself with an old friend." His appearance may have matured, but his blue eyes still dazzled with a childlike exuberance.

I had nearly forgotten how easygoing he was. Obi-Wan's Jedi stoicism was as much a mask for him as Amidala was for me. I was comforted by the reminder of it, and felt myself slipping back into natural cadence of our friendly dialogue.

"I can relate," I replied, feeling my apprehension begin to disappear like a fading wisp of smoke.

I pressed my weight along the front side of the counter, observing from across the way as he resumed his menial task. Two simple ceramic cups waited patiently on the counter while he attempted to figure out the manufactured contraption that was positioned in front of him.

"Need any help there?" I inquired.

"I think I've got it," Obi-Wan deterred politely. "It's been awhile since I've used Naboo technology," he said with a puzzled frown, "but I'm determined to outsmart this little piece of machinery." His finger floated hesitantly over the array of buttons on the device.

"Mm," I uttered with open skepticism. I pointed to the button that his finger was farthest from. "The infuser feature is on the left there."

"Ye of such _little_ faith," he said in mock-offense; but he made it clear that my help was appreciated: "And which one boils the water?"

"Center switch. Be sure to press that one first, if you haven't already."

Obi-Wan did as instructed, and within moments, the floral aroma of ryoo and sapflower began to mingle into the milieu of the room.

Obi-Wan gave his hand a slight flail of satisfaction upon completing his project. "I'm afraid to ask what the other multitude of buttons are for," he said with a chuckle. "Making tea should not be this complicated. In my humble opinion, a self-heated kettle would have done the job just as well."

"Naboo does seem to prefer aesthetic convenience in favor of practicality," I agreed with a laugh.

"Well then," Obi-Wan rolled up the sleeves of his beige tunic and moved the tiny mugs closer toward the tea station. "Would you care for an _aesthetic_ cup of sapflower tea, Miss Sabé?"

I played along, feigning a grandiose interest. "I would be much obliged to partake my dear sir," I said, unable to suppress a devilish grin of my own. It was as if nothing had changed; as if no time had elapsed since our friendship began all those years ago.

Obi-Wan poured the beverage and scooted it towards me. I propped my elbows against the edge of the countertop, accepting the drink as it finished its brief commute.

"So you drink tea?" I asked, opening the door for conversation.

"Quite often," Obi-Wan said, pouring his share. "I find that it helps to reinforce meditation and relaxation."

"In my experience it's been better suited as a means to calm down dignitaries," I said, cupping my hands around the circumference of my warmed mug. "Often, Yané and I would bring tea to Governer Bibble whenever his conversations with Padmé turned into monologues. I'm routinely amazed at the difference it makes."

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan said, elongating his face in dramatized shock, "have I just uncovered a covert weapon of the Queen's secret service?"

I lifted the drink and held it poised to my lips, giving him a furtive glance. "Tell no one," I said conspiratorially.

He raised his cup in response. "I wouldn't dream of it," he vowed, relinquishing another smile.

I dared to take a first sip. Not too scalding, nor too strong. I savored its floral sweetness as it entered my mouth and into my throat. I took advantage of the quiet moment to recalibrate my next move. I could either sustain the lighthearted repartee, or segue into more pressing matters. The window of opportunity fit aptly with the topic of secrecy and politics, but selfishly, I couldn't bring myself to jump that quickly into serious conversation.

I stalled, taking another drink. Much to my chagrin, I had taken too much at once, causing my throat to pinch in opposition as the tea made its way down. I coughed and spluttered after I had swallowed.

"You all right?"

"Hot," I lied, clearing my throat. "Tea is apparently effective at gagging _me_ as well as politicians."

"To be fair, you do play the part of a politician on a fairly regular basis," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Hm," I said, glaring suspiciously at my tea. "It _knows…"_

Obi-Wan migrated around the counter with his tea in hand. "Perhaps smaller sips will prevent you from succumbing to the worst of its animosity," Obi-Wan advised humorously. Then with seamless facilitation, he ushered me cordially toward his seating area in the middle of the chamber.

"I'm humbled by your concern," I said, elbowing him lightly as he guided me towards the seat opposite of his. "But I'll have you know I haven't needed protection since the invasion."

"I'll wager you didn't need protection even then," Obi-Wan replied with a dose of sincerity.

Against my wishes, I felt the heat of a blush creep up from my neck and onto my cheeks. I gave a fixated stare at my small cup of tea, hoping my tawny cowl might cover the worst of my face's betrayal. The liquid quivered and modulated within its ceramic confines. It almost appeared to be laughing at me. I took vindictive swig of the mocking beverage.

"Speaking of protection," I said, redirecting once again. "How have things been since you've taken Anakin under your wing?"

"Surprisingly well," he said. "He has a great deal of vitality." He paused. "But his growing confidence seems to lend to a chronic impulsivity. It has a penchant of getting him into trouble. Though in spite of that—or, perhaps even _because_ of that, I've truly grown fond of him."

"How old is he now?" I asked.

"Nearly eleven," Obi-Wan replied.

The edge of my mouth tugged into a smile. "I was the same age when I enrolled in the Security Academy here on Naboo. I recall having that very same temperament."

Obi-Wan looked back on me in mild surprise. "I had no idea you had joined the forces at so young an age."

I shrugged. "Naboo prides itself in its statistical propensity for prodigies. I am no exception to that number. Intelligence and maturity are cultivated above all else. But even as a youth, I had my vices. Like Anakin, my pride often influenced my behavior."

"Did you ever outgrow it?" With his tea braced in both hands, Obi-Wan propped his elbows on his lap, leaning forward in interest.

I waved a hand dismissively. "Not entirely," I said. "But I _did_ learn to control it. I think my career as a decoy played a very strong role in that. Once the stakes of my actions became real enough to me, I began to recognize the importance of restraint."

It was Obi-Wan's turn to look away. Unlike me, his adjustment was introspective rather than embarrassed. "I worry about Anakin potentially letting those stakes dictate his actions without forethought," he said, rubbing a hand idly across his chin. He looked hilariously sage for being concerned about the rash behavior of an adolescent boy.

"You should grow a beard," I blurted before I could stop myself.

Obi-Wan stilled, and threw me a look of utter confusion. "Pardon?"

"Nevermind," I said hurriedly. "Forget I said anything." In my mind, I was digging myself an imaginary hole that I could bury myself in.

"No, no," Obi-Wan countered. "Now you have me interested."

I dipped my pinky into my tea and started swirling it quiet vexation. I wished there was a way to salve my embarrassment. But of course there was no way to undo what I had said, and Obi-Wan's perplexity wasn't going to fade, so I was left to complete my train of thought. "It's just…you seem to lend yourself to a very paternal nature. I think a beard would really capture the essence of those contemplative frowns you're so prone to making."

"Thank you? I suppose?" Obi-Wan said, his tone friendly but quizzical.

"Well, I mean…Anakin's still just a boy," I continued, working myself dangerously close to aimless blathering. "It's exceedingly normal for growing boys to behave brashly. I think you may be putting too much pressure on yourself for something that will adapt in its own due time. He will make his own mistakes, and learn from them accordingly. Don't rob him of that opportunity." I hadn't meant to preach on the subject, which detoured rapidly from facial hair into parenting advice…Gods I must seem so insolent to him.

But Obi-Wan seemed to ponder thoughtfully on my words. "I suppose you're right," he said. "To tell you the truth, I feel somewhat unprepared for this role. It's exceedingly rare for a newly Knighted Jedi to train an Apprentice so soon. We both seem to be in the process of growing and adapting, each in our own way," he confessed.

I was about to give a reply, but my comlink starting chirping incessantly for my attention. I winced at the noise, withdrew it, and looked at Obi-Wan apologetically. "Sorry," I said, rising from my seat. "This will just be a minute."

Obi-Wan politely gave me leave. I set my mostly-finished tea on the nearby end table and made my retreat. There wasn't much by way of privacy with the exception of the balcony. I walked that direction and pressed the button to halt the obnoxious sounds emitting from my comlink. A small hologram emerged, revealing the figure of my older sister Jaina.

" _Hello, Sabé!"_ she said with a hearty smile. _"Just following up. Are we still expecting you for dinner tonight?"_

Oh…sithspit. I had completely forgotten. My day had taken so many unexpected turns that my previous engagements completely slipped my mind.

"Of course, Jaina," I said, pretending it hadn't escaped my mind.

" _All right. Mother insists that you arrive prior to sunset. And don't forget to buy some muja fruit on your way over. She says the fruit stand off the main square has the best assortment."_

"Will do," I promised.

" _And boy, have I got news for you!"_

"You _always_ have news for me," I said, rolling my eyes.

" _I resent that,"_ she said with a pout. _"In my defense, we still have those five years of separation to make up for."_

She was right, of course. After I had transferred from the Academy and into the Order of Sanctuary, I had become completely engulfed in the secrecy of my trade. It wasn't until after the reclamation of Naboo—after Obi-Wan had found my family amidst the chaos of restoring our planet—that I had even _seen_ my family since my departure. Thankfully, a lot of things changed for the better after we'd overcome the Trade Federation. Naboo had a renewed understanding of how important it was to maintain family ties. Vacation benefits and family visitations had become highly encouraged; and in some places, even required.

" _Besides,"_ Jaina said with a wink, _"this news is actually_ really _big news."_  
"I suppose I'll have something to look forward to, then," I said with a smile. "I have news, too. And I'm willing to bet that it's bigger than your news."

" _I sincerely doubt that,"_ Jaina replied.

"I guess we'll see," I said.

" _Do I get a hint?"_

"Not unless _you_ have a hint you're willing to disclose," I volleyed.

Jaina pursed her lips, debating whether or not to part with an inkling of information. Her curiosity played the winning hand. _"It has to do with a job,"_ she said.

"And mine has to do with a person," I replied.

Jaina's eyes widened. _"A man person?"_

I shook my finger in disapproval. "I already gave you my hint. Just inform mother to add another place setting at the table for my arrival."

" _That confirms it! It_ is _a man person! Is it Xarix? I'll bet it's Xarix. He's been eying you for_ years _."_

"It is in no way what you think it is, Jaina," I said insistently, feeling heat rush to my face again. Thank goodness holograms veiled such things with their blue emissions, otherwise Jaina would notice and go from persistent to intolerable. Before she could harass me with more questions, I hastily wrapped up the conversation. "And I promise you'll find out soon enough. I'll see you tonight. Four hours."

I shut off my comlink and huffed a sigh. Jaina was always high energy, which I was often able to reciprocate. But I suppose I backed myself into a corner with the subject matter. I pocketed my comlink and reentered the chamber's interior.

Obi-Wan had moved from his seat during my brief absence, observing a royal portrait on the wall with vague interest. Upon my entrance, his focus adjusted back towards me.

"Is everything well?" he asked.

"Very well," I assured him. "That was just my sister Jaina. Do you remember her?"

"Of course I do," Obi-Wan replied. "I could hardly forget."

"Good," I said. "Because you're going to join us for dinner tonight."

"Oh I couldn't impose…" Obi-Wan began to decline.

"Nonsense," I said, resolute. "My family never got to properly thank you for what you did for us all those years ago. Besides, it is my privilege host you during your stay on Naboo."

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head as if to say _What am I to do with you?_ "Very well," he relented, "I would be honored to dine with your family."

I gave a satisfied nod. Bringing Obi-Wan along would enable two things: First, it gave me a timeline in which to impart my news about Kasaré before he departed for Coruscant again. And second, I wasn't inclined to say goodbye to him again so soon. Visiting my family would prolong his stay, even if it was just for a little while.

* * *

 _"Welcome to Ferentina,"_ the PA system announced as the transit shuttle slowed to a stop.

"Home sweet home," I said to no one in particular.

The double doors opened, permitting commuters to make their exit. Obi-Wan and I were amid the small throng.

Ferentina was a historic city; one that focused primarily on agriculture and local trade. It was also the location of one of the Trade Federation's most infamous concentration camps. The city had been in ruins upon their attack, but the years of restoration afterward had made a notable difference since then. New buildings emerged in tandem to the renovations of others. Due to the notoriety of the prison camp, Ferentina had also become a tourist hotspot, providing a more lucrative means to expand the land and its inhabitants. I was disgusted by how Naboo's formerly imprisoned collective could divert their attentions so easily towards commodifying their past torment. Unfortunately, economy was a necessary monster that always needed to be fed regardless of the circumstances that nurtured it. Yet, if the people were made happier for it, I could hardly resent the results.

"I'm relieved to see how much has changed for the better since my last visit," Obi-Wan observed.

"Believe me, that makes two of us," I said, breathing in a lungful of fresh air. I removed my handmaiden cowl, letting the fabric drape behind me while my long brown hair billowed free from its former restraint. The country breeze felt unbelievably soothing against my skin. The rustling of my hair almost tickled at the sensation, and I couldn't resist twirling a little as I walked along the boarding plank.

Obi-Wan was not as indulgent as I was, but he took an obvious delight in my childish dalliance. "This reminds me of when I gave you a tour of Coruscant," Obi-Wan said.

"That was a definite highlight of my time spent there," I said. "But it looks like this time it is now _my_ turn to show you around."

"Indeed," he said, falling into step with me as we walked off the elevated platform of the transport station.

"We still have a couple of hours left before my family is expecting us," I said, noting the time. "Come on, let me show you the main square."

Ferentina's imperious clock tower stood in the center of all the activity, tall and proud. It served as our beacon as I led Obi-Wan toward the heart of town. The clock tower was a historic landmark, and one of the few buildings to have been left upright during the events of Naboo's Invasion. It had since become a memorial of sorts. At its base stood a plaque that cataloged all of the lives that had been lost within Ferentina during its time as Camp Four.

Despite its sobering reminder, it was also the chief location for many city-wide celebrations, and right now there was a local harvest festival taking place. There was a group of young girls performing line dances, wherein they weaved colored ribbons as they crossed each other. By the dance's conclusion, an elaborate design had been created, which was then displayed proudly as an overhanging decoration along the front side of the clock tower. Multitudes of artisans, performers, solicitors, and citizens filled the main street, giving the scene a vibrant buzz of activity.

Along the way, Obi-Wan and I stumbled upon a quintet of folk performers. They played a familiar Ferentinian ode, and I found myself pausing our stroll and clapping along to it. Obi-Wan joined in, unfamiliar with the tune, but happy to be a part of the experience. The performers vamped until they drew a big enough crowd to encourage a lively dance. I was swept away with nostalgia as the tune commenced.

"Come, come, my dear! You must dance!" An elder gentleman encouraged, offering me his hand in invitation. He was already dancing, but required a partner.

My feet felt compelled to oblige. I hadn't heard this tune since I was a young girl; but to my amazement, I had retained all the steps to the dance that accompanied it. I glanced back at Obi-Wan, as if I needed his permission, which of course I didn't. But I didn't want him to think that I'd all but abandoned him, either.

"If you don't mind?" I asked, beginning to succumb to the allure of partaking in the celebration of my cultural history.

"Please, by all means!" Obi-Wan encouraged, smiling broadly. "I'm perfectly content to observe from here."

Within seconds, I was swept away into the festivities, pounding my feet against the cobblestones, and weaving in a synchronized pattern between the multitudes of people. The elderly gentleman would occasionally take my hand and guide me in a circular fashion back into the dance's cycle. My face was flushed as the dancing continued. I relished the freedom of swaying my skirts, stamping my feet, clapping loudly, and cheering openly. It was so easy to simply let the pains and pressures of my work life dissipate under the illusion of euphoria.

At last, the song ended, and a round of applause repaid the musicians in kind.

Another song began. I was offered another dance by a different attendee, but this time I politely declined. There was still so much more to show Obi-Wan, and I didn't want him to remain in the outskirts of my nostalgia.

"Where to next?" Obi-Wan said, offering me his arm. I took it, all the while trying to control my labored breathing. I was flushed and beginning to sweat from my exertion, but I still felt jubilated from the festivities.

"I still need to get some muja fruit before we head to dinner. There's a local vendor just past the south side of the square."

It was a short walk, but idly zigzagging through the horde of people and festival kiosks made the endeavor last a little longer before we reached our destination.

"Have you ever had muja before?" I asked, perusing the rows of fruit in the market stand.

"I can't say as I have," Obi-Wan admitted.

"Oh, then your taste buds are in for a religious experience," I said. "Muja fruit is my favorite. It's tangy with a simultaneous sweetness to it…but the flavor remains subtle along with the texture." I plucked a handful from a cart and approached the vendor, continuing my conversation all the while. "It's commonly used to make juice and sauces; though I confess, I am far more indulgent when muja is incorporated on sweets and pastries."

"That'll be 12 credits," the vendor requested upon gauging the price.

I pulled out my metallic credit chip and completed the transaction. We continued on our way upon packaging our purchase.

Time was passing all too quickly before my family was to expect us. Even with my afternoon of respite, I began to grow anxious as the evening drew near. Would I tell him before dinner? After we returned to the palace? Or right before he made his departure? I supposed there was no "proper" time to invest in a topic as difficult as treason and disobedience…but I knew it would still have to be done, whether I liked the outcome or not.

My legs felt sore from all the walking and dancing. It didn't help that my shoes weren't well suited for long periods of mobility, but every single moment was worth the aches and pains. My head and my heart felt cleansed; no longer overwrought with secrecy and mind games. Ferentina was effective at enchanting me with its charm and provinciality. I sobered to know that the comfort of this life was one that I had given up for the sake of protecting it for others. But my moments of reprieve became all the more precious for it, and reminded me why I chose the path that I that I did.

"I know you hadn't originally planned for it, but thank you for accompanying me today," I said to Obi-Wan. "Having company made the day considerably more enjoyable."

"I think today was as much a treat for you as it was for me," Obi-Wan reciprocated. "It is rare for me to have free time after a mission. Frequently I receive additional assignments before I even make it back to the Jedi Temple."

"That sounds exhausting," I sympathized.

"I've been doing it since I was thirteen," Obi-Wan said with a shrug. "I've become predisposed to that kind of life. As a keeper of the peace, there is no nobler calling."

I mulled over his words. _Keeper of the peace._ We both came from very different backgrounds, yet our callings remained unequivocally similar. It got me thinking about the Order of Sanctuary. I wondered how my sisterhood compared to that of his Jedi Order.

At last, we made it near the outskirts of my family's acreage. Quite unlike the prestige of the palace grounds and noble households of Theed, my home resembled something of a much smaller mien. The windows were decorated with blue shutters, and there was a modest balcony on the third floor that was braced by four simple posts on that surrounded the main entrance below. The path to the house was a simple, meandering dirt path abutted with trees and trimmed underbrush.

"Welcome to the Evoria residence," I proclaimed as we approached the walkway.

"It's beautiful. Quite spacious, too," Obi-Wan observed.

"My father runs a vineyard; we specialize in effervescent wine. It's a select favorite of the aristocracy," I said. "Father became very successful due to our committed patronage. But he's also an exceedingly frugal individual. The only large investments he made were towards the upkeep of our land and a good education of Jaina and myself."

"He sounds like a very honorable man," Obi-Wan replied.

"I think you'd like him," I said. "You're both fairly humble and soft spoken individuals."

"I look forward to meeting him."

"Technically you already _have_ ," I pointed out.

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking, but that was an interaction that was centered on facilitating a reunion. This time I may actually end up getting to know everyone."

"Jaina will demand your attention within moments," I forewarned. "She's always been a forceful personality. Genuine and lovable, to be sure, but…very emotive."

"I imagine many sibling disputes arose from that over the years," Obi-Wan guessed, his voice giving off the smallest hint of sass. "Two big personalities living in such close proximity sounds dangerous."

"Oh when we were younger, we were absolutely toilsome for my poor parents. As we grew, we became quite close. But of course that didn't stop us from arguing every so often, as siblings are wont to do. For instance," I said, pointing to an angular tree at the end of the roadway. "See that tree right there?" It was a tall, gangly looking tree that jutted out awkwardly near the widening apron of the path.

Obi-Wan gave an affirmative nod in response.

"When I was five, I had provoked Jaina by teasing her about a boy she liked. She didn't react well to it, and angrily chased me about until I clamored up that tree. She tried climbing after me, but she wasn't as small or light as I was, being about five years my senior. While the upper limbs of the tree supported me, one of the branches snapped on Jaina. She fell off and broke her arm."

Obi-Wan and I paused under the tree in question while I continued my story. "It must have been a long fall," he said, looking up at the foliage of the tree. I tried to pay no mind to the full exposure of his neck as he strained to see the broken limb in question.

"It was one of the most terrifying moments of my young life," I confided. "I thought for certain she was going to die as I watched her fall down."

Inexplicably, my heartbeat began to quicken, and my fingers tingled as though they had just been rendered numb. I was caught off guard, thinking maybe I was simply feeling a new physiological response to my infatuation. But the sensation felt more like an autonomic response...as if my body was suddenly warding off something. I tried to ignore the feeling, hoping it was just a residual reaction to a lack of food.

"I presume this altered the course of your relationship with her?"

"Oh not remotely," I said. Even talking was beginning to become difficult. I grew dizzy, and the tingles migrated from my fingers to my arms. I clenched my hands into balled fists to try and stop the feeling. "Arguing was always inevitable for me. But I _did_ grow closer to her after that incident."

My condition was rapidly worsening. Suppressing it at this point was becoming difficult, and perhaps even unwise. I could taste the pooling of saliva as it coated the inside my mouth. Oh gods, was I going to throw up? Breathing became shallow and rapid, as though my lungs were being compressed. My limbs felt heavy, and my necklace radiated warmly against my skin, as though it were absorbing my own feverish body heat. I tried to blink away the dizziness and planted my hand against the trunk of the tree to assist my balance.

No sooner did I touch the bark, then my vision blurred and suddenly I felt like I was being forcibly reeled somewhere else. It was as if the entire world had shifted, and I was being sucked away from it like a ship trapped in a tractor beam.

When my eyes refocused, I was back in my dream world.

No.

Not again.

Everything looked the same…yet, nothing looked familiar. I stood by the very same tree. The sky was still clear and blue. But the idiosyncratic differences that surrounded me were staggering: I no longer felt ill. Obi-Wan was no longer present. A large estate stood in place of my home, and the expansive view of Ferentina's agriculture now had been replaced by a distant horizon of lush mountains.

Desperately, I strained to conjure myself back to reality, though I hardly knew how to accomplish such a thing. I realized too late that my sudden nausea was a prelude to being eviscerated from my normal plane of existence. I should have seen the signs…but how was I to recognize that my body was being pulled into some other dimension? This had never happened to me consciously before.

I heard voices atop the tree. I looked up, my heart knocking wildly in panic. I took a step back to get a clearer view.

Two little girls. Jaina and myself? Was I reliving the memory? No…these girls were happy. Laughing.

"Leia! Wait up; I'm not as fast as you!"

"You're gonna have to work on that then!"

I saw a little girl with long brown hair, and another girl of the same age. This one had startling white hair. My stomach sank at the recollection of what I was witnessing.

This was my dream from last night. I looked at the ground, dreading the possibility of seeing death and decay. To my relief, nothing was there except long strands of healthy grass and yellow wildflowers.

"Do you think we'll get in trouble if our new tutor catches us?" the white haired one asked in mild apprehension.

"I don't think so. She's blinder than a sea-mouse. If she shows up, we'll be real quiet so she won't find us."

"She makes me nervous."

"Oh, Winter, don't be silly," Leia admonished to her fair-haired counterpart.

"She's just very stern and forceful," Winter insisted.

I felt like I wasn't meant to overhear this conversation. But they were ignorant of my existence, and I had little else to do about my predicament other than listen.

"I think something happened to her. Something terrible and romantic," Leia said dreamily. She plucked a leaf from the tree, twirled it between her fingers and blew on it softly, watching the flimsy greenery tremor in response.

"She never talks about the Clone Wars," Winter said, seeming to agree. "Or the Old Republic."

"Neither does father," Leia said almost sadly.

Clone Wars? Old Republic? What were they talking about?

 _Sabé…_

That voice again.

I turned to face about me. The scenery rippled into nonexistence, like the undulations of a pond being penetrated by skipping stones. No more trees or talkative little girls. Even the mountains had disappeared. I was solitary, but I wasn't alone.

"Who's there?" I demanded. I was terrified to interact; terrified of what I may find.

A shape began to materialize. It was gradual at first, with a bronze light emitting a reddened core.

From the center of the light's culmination, a figure began to emerge in the shape of a woman. She was resplendent in a gorgeous array of golden silk lined with red fur. Her dark hair was adorned simplistically, but with an elegance that accentuated her poise and grace.

But it was her face above all else that left me stupefied. Her eyes were a deep and soulful brown, and a light dusting of freckles spanned across her square face. The most distinguishing feature was the single scar of remembrance that was seared vertically across her lower lip. It was a face I had seen depicted in countless portraits, sculptures, and tapestries.

She was our planet's first Queen. This was Queen Minrota.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Sorry for the delay on this segment! Writer's Block seized hold of me for awhile and due to taking 4 different literature courses, I am quite literally booked with ample reading homework every day. The two jobs thing definitely has me on a chokehold as well…nonetheless, I remain fixated on continuing this story!_

 _Thank you to all who have been flooding my inbox with reviews and kind words! Definitely keep 'em coming! They never cease to make me smile._

 _Again, updates will fluctuate, but my goal is to submit 2 chapters per month, so anticipate the next one to be made available by early February. I hope that this chapter will satiate until then._

 _Thanks again!_


	5. Diligence and Dalliance

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Four- Diligence and Dalliance_

* * *

At first, I was not sure whether to bow in reverence or run for my life. My feet staggered back with indecision. Was she an enemy? A spirit guide? Or just an apparition? She was the very quintessence of ethereality; that much was clear. She floated almost effortlessly whilst dapples of orange light continued to emanate from her in lazy swirling patterns. But the imperium of her figure seemed to contradict a certain melancholy that hid behind her brown eyes. She looked serene, sad, and arresting all at once. The complexity of her countenance left me feeling both awed and intimidated.

"Is this real?" My voice came out breathy and apprehensive. It was a foolish question, really, since even reality seemed to be a _very_ subjective concept as of late. A better question might have been: "Am I losing my mind?" Or, "What do you want with me?" Or even "How in the seven star systems do I get _out_ of here?" Unfortunately, it was as if my usual sardonicism had been wrested from me. But admittedly, despite my encroaching fear, I discovered that I also felt deeply humbled by her presence. And that, I think, was the reason I seemed unable to run away.

"It is as real as you make it," Minrota replied. Her lips never moved, but it was evident that it was she who spoke. Her words rang clear enough that all of my senses felt keenly attuned to her every word.

Of _course_ she would be cryptic. Why wouldn't she be? She was an inhabitation of my dreams. And dreams were hardly reputable for practicality.

I engaged her with inquiries all the same. She was the strongest recurrent aspect of my dreams, and she had attempted to make contact with me in the waking world, and managed to interact with me while I was lucid in a dream that I had literally been dragged into. All indicators pointed to her being the cause of my debacle.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" I was surprised at the calmness in my tone. I wanted to demand answers, but something seemed to be holding me back.

"There is a growing darkness, Sabé," she said. I wasn't sure if it was a metaphoric response or a literal warning. "The Heart of the Guardian must return to its former glory."

"What do you mean?"

"Shadows lurk beneath the light. The warriors of night have lost their way. The Guardian must guide them home."

I felt a vague frustration begin to tug at me somewhere in the back of my mind, but my peevishness remained shrouded by the thrall of Minrota's mysticism. I desperately wanted to harangue her for being so evasive after the lengths she went through to get my attention. And I wasn't exactly appreciative of having my natural emotions being forcibly detained.

"I don't understand," I replied, wishing I could exclaim the extent of my exasperation. As if in answer, I suddenly felt the jewel of Zenda levitate away from its resting place around my neck. It emitted a glow similar to the color that enveloped Minrota.

The memory of Padmé's voice resounded in my mind, ricocheting in softened whispers. _"The Zenda stone was crafted from a rare crystal known as Heart of the Guardian,"_ she had said, _"It was always a symbol of protection for Naboo's leaders_. _"_

The legends. The stories…were they all true?

I shook my head, beginning to understand what Minrota was implying. "N-no," I stammered. Clumsily, my fingers reached for the clasp of the necklace, desperate to remove the blasted thing. "The Zenda was given to me simply as a gift—a mere trifle."

"You are protector of the Heart," Minrota said, undeterred. "And now you are called to manifest its true purpose."

"I'm only a bodyguard," I insisted, holding the pendent before her as if it were an offering. "You've got the wrong girl. This is a royal gem—it belongs to the monarch. Whatever it is you think I'm destined for, I'm not."

"You must guide the warriors of the night," she continued. It was as if she didn't even hear me. "Bind the darkness, bend the light. Heed the call."

This was making increasingly less sense. I could feel my frustration roiling inside me, desperate to break free from whatever calming spell Minrota was using on me. Who were the warriors of the night? Why was she speaking in metaphors and riddles? It's not like that was going to encourage me to accept her call to action.

"I want no part of this," I said, hoping she could feel every ounce of my stifled exacerbation. "I don't even know what you're talking about. Who are the warriors of the night? What is the Heart of the Guardian supposed to do?"

Minrota lifted her long, delicate fingers, and pressed two of them on the center of my forehead. "All will become clear. This is my gift unto you."

In an instant, everything changed. My mind was a whirl-wind of activity; a kaleidoscope of sounds, smells, and images. I felt nearly nauseous from the onslaught of visions. My entire body thrummed with the sheer magnitude of what I was sensing.

I could see… _everything._ Some things in reverse, some things spinning into an abstract abyss, other things suspended in the breath of a moment. Time had no bearing, but I stood on the outside of it. I could see it all:

A vast explosion of space debris reformed into the shape of a lush planet.

A young man cried out in anguish, ensnared by the relentless grip of fire and ash.

Sounds of battle cries, blaster fire, choruses of political objections and public outcries. I could see lightsabers clashing, I could feel the synchronized clanks of machinery as they exerted their force against their opponents…I smelled the rotting stench of death. My head throbbed mercilessly in response to the sensory overload.

Then all went silent. And all that remained was the darkness.

After a moment, a solitary girl emerged from the black. She stood bravely in the dark of night. Her lip was split down the middle, leaving a thin trail of blood that dripped down to her chin. The wound was fresh and angry. The mark upon her face was the scar that shaped our history. It was Minrota, during the Battle of the Nine. She looked younger here, perhaps no older than fourteen or fifteen. But her eyes carried the weight of decades.

Behind her stood a silent collective of men and women veiled in dark grey cloaks.

Something else lurked under the shrouds of night: A multitude of shapeless shadows. They appeared as nothing more than silhouettes, but they seemed to coagulate into something almost corporeal. The girl withdrew something from the underside of her cloak.

The shadows swelled into an engorged mass, preparing to swallow the girl whole.

From her hand, a searing light interceded the darkness, emitting the color of a ruddy bronze with a darkened center. The light's ignition gave off its familiar hum as a lightsaber.

 _This is your calling, Sabé._ Minrota's voice spoke over the vision. She was tranquil; distant and far-reaching, like the final fade of an echo.

* * *

"Sabé, are you all right?"

My eyes refused to open at first. I dreaded the idea of discovering more horrific visions. But the owner of the voice managed to draw me out of my stupor. It was Obi-Wan. Somehow, whether by my own design or that of Minrota's, I was relinquished from my dream. A wave of relief washed over me as I reopened my eyes and ascertained my surroundings.

I was lying down on the soft soil of the ground next to the tree, with Obi-Wan cradling my head in his arms. My body was reacting as if I had just slept for three days straight: My tongue felt swollen as it cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and my body felt weighed down, confirming my existence within the confines of reality.

"I feel heavy," I managed to say, drowsily.

"You took quite a tumble there," Obi-Wan said, gentle and concerned.

I raised my hand to the back of my head, already sensitive to the blossoming of a brand new bruise. "How long was I out?"

Obi-Wan carefully eased me upright, keeping his arm behind my back for support. "For hardly more than a minute," he said, appearing confused.

I froze. "You're sure?"

"I'm quite positive," he assured me. "I didn't even have long enough to alert anyone for help before you came to."

That couldn't be right. My vision with Minrota…it had felt like it had lasted for hours. She had said that all would become clear, but the entire exchange had left me feeling overwhelmed with even more questions than I'd had to begin with. Glimmers of my visions criss-crossed through my mind, refracting against each other in frantic perpetuity.

I clamored back to my feet, newly determined to push my added anxieties aside. Given my current dishevelment, it was difficult to mask how truly shaken I was by everything that had just transpired. My panic was being tethered by a very thin leash. I could feel it pulsating through every fiber of my being, despite my efforts to squander the feeling.

"Sabé, tell me truly, are you all right?" To my dismay, Obi-Wan could see _right_ through my pretense. Or, more likely, his Jedi senses had detected the magnitude of my internal panic.

"I'm fine…just lightheaded. From…all the walking. And the lack of food," I insisted, scrounging for excuses that I could barely recall. "I'm sure that's it." It was the worst lie I had ever managed to tell.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows twitched downward in scorn. "The _truth_ , Sabé," he pressed. "I felt an overpowering presence of the Force being exerted on you. This is far from a trivial matter."

I eyed him warily. He had sensed far more than my own fear. The severity of his concern revealed as much. He must have felt the degree in which my dreams had seized me.

"The truth is…I've been having visions." I hardly knew how else to explain it.

I watched as Obi-Wan processed this new bit of information.

"Visions?" he echoed. "As in premonitions?"

"Yes. Well…no. Not exactly." I faltered, unsure of how to put it into words. "More like visitations."

"Visitations?"

I nodded. A budding thought began to emerge. "Obi-Wan…is it…possible for someone to reach out from beyond the grave?"

I recalled having this same conversation with Master Yoda years prior, when I had been hearing the voice of Obi-Wan's newly deceased Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Was I some kind of clairvoyant, able to operate as a conduit for the dead? Or was my connection due to my ownership of the Zenda stone? It seemed to be the only direct correlation between what happened with Qui-Gon and what had _been_ happening with Minrota.

Obi-Wan bore his trepidation with a masterful ease. "I've not heard of the existence of such a thing. Though I suppose it is not beyond the realm of possibility."

"I keep hearing voices, and seeing images…I came to realize that the person who had been trying to contact me was the first Queen of Naboo." I paused, recalling the final image of her wielding the bronze lightsaber. "I think…she might have been force-sensitive."

"That would explain why I felt such a strong insurgence in the Force."

I shot my eyes back up at Obi-Wan. "Did you feel her presence?"

"I felt… _something_ ," Obi-Wan said. I could tell that he too was flummoxed by the bizarreness of my situation. "I'm not quite sure what to make of it."

"I might have a few ideas…" I considered.

"Sabé? Is that you?"

It was Jaina.

I gave Obi-Wan a look that I hoped he would interpret as one that promised that we'd discuss more later. But he seemed to assert as much on his own already. At the mere utterance of my sister's voice, Obi-Wan's expression had altered into a placid kind of pleasantry.

I turned around just in time to watch my sister approach from around the front porch. With an elated gasp, she halted in her tracks as she took in the sight of the two of us.

Oh gods…I could already tell where her mind had gone. Out of firsthand embarrassment, I was suddenly beginning to regret my decision to invite Obi-Wan.

"Oh my goodness, _Sabé!_ " Jaina gushed, hastening toward us with revitalized excitement. "When you told me you were bringing someone with you, I had _no idea_ that it would be Jedi Kenobi!"

"It's good to see you again, Miss Jaina," Obi-Wan said amiably.

"Stars above, it's so good to see you!" Jaina said, reaching to shake his hand eagerly. "Why in the world are the two of you loitering out here? Come on inside!" With the swish of her deep blue dress, she turned and led us into the house.

I gave Obi-Wan a helpless shrug as we followed my older sister.

Jaina yelled across the front foyer of the house. "Mother! You won't _believe_ who Sabé brought with her!"

I wanted to die. The mortification was too much.

My mother walked out from the kitchen, located across the way from the entrance. Her hands were otherwise occupied in a wrestling match against a sealed jar. Her ministrations ceased at the sight of us.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "If it isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan gave a respectful bow. "A pleasure to see you, Milady Evoria."

My mother chuckled at this, raising a hand to her cheek in mild embarrassment. "Oh there's no need for such formalities. We're out in the country. Narene will do fine."

My mother always appeared meek and fragile due to her petite stature, but she had a quiet assertiveness that revealed that she was the secret strength of our family. Her demure physique merely understated how authoritative she could be. I took after her in appearance, but my own personality came off as far more forceful. We both had lithe and angular features, with squared jaws, deep brown eyes, and small upturned noses; but the similarities ended there. I was brash and impulsive whereas she was anchored and subdued.

"Sabé, your gown is dirtied," my mother observed with a frown.

I gave a reactionary glance down at my skirts. Sure enough, my dress was now mottled with dirt stains. It must have been when I'd collapsed earlier.

"Oh." I said lamely. "That."

I didn't want to digress on how it had gotten to its soiled state. Luckily, it seemed hardly out of character, as mother waved a dismissive hand and said "Jaina, why don't you go with Sabé into the attic; see if you can't find some of her old clothes."

"Your wish, my command." Jaina obeyed, hooking her arm through mine.

Mother continued her facilitations. "Obi-Wan, why don't you help me in the kitchen? I'll take the muja fruit from your hands, if you're willing to prevail against this jar for me."

I was struck by my mother's informal use of Obi-Wan's name. It wasn't unexpected for her to do such a thing, but I was unused to hearing his first name uttered so casually from someone other than myself or the immediate members of his Jedi Order.

"I accept your challenge, Narene," Obi-Wan said, following her dutifully into the kitchen.

"You have _worlds_ of explaining to do, Sabé," Jaina whispered, her eyes gleaming.

I sighed, submitting to her will as I was dragged upstairs, deeper into the familiarity of home.

"Start from the beginning," she commanded, plopping me onto a footstool located near the window of the attic.

"There's not much to tell," I admitted. "He was assigned to a diplomatic mission on Ohma-D'un, and upon his return to the Palace, we were able to catch up on lost time. I figured the family would appreciate having an opportunity to thank him for all he'd done for us during the reclamation."

"Okay, but, there's got to be more to it than that," she insisted. "This man has saved your life on multiple occasions, reunited our family, _and_ took special care to spend time with you after a mission. There's got to be something there."

"I hate to disappoint," I said with a shrug.

"I'm not disappointed," Jaina denied. Her pursed lips told me another story.

"It's your turn," I said, switching gears.

"My turn?"

"My surprise was pretty self-evident. What's new in your world? You'd said it was something about a job?"

"Oh," Jaina replied. She sat down next to me. "Wellll…"

I poked her in the ribs. "Don't you dare hold back on me now!"

Jaina tried to suppress a grin with no avail. "I just got a big-time promotion," she said. "You know that seminar on trade exportation that I told you about? The one I spent _months_ slaving to prepare for?"

"I remember the stress leading up to it," I said. "I'm presuming it went well?"

"Better than I imagined," Jaina gushed. "I got to talking about Naboo's history of trade—from our early transactions with the native Gungans, to our celebrated relations with Alderaan and Coruscant, and everything that transpired with the Trade Federation since the reign of Ars Veruna." I flinched at Veruna's name, remembering my meeting with his niece from this morning.

Jaina continued her explanation, ignorant of my momentary distraction. "The long and short of it is, my presentation on Naboo's foreign policies caught the interest of the Corellian Trade Spine. In fact, their chief executive officer came up to me afterward and offered me a position within his public relations faction."

"No way!" I gasped. "So you're taking the job?"

Jaina nodded. "It'll mean I'm going to be moving to Corellia," she said. "Far from the Chommell sector, and even farther from Naboo…"

"But closer the Core planets," I finished her sentence for her. "Jaina, this is _huge!_ "

Jaina heaved a contented sigh. "This is huge for Naboo as well," she said. "With me representing the face of Naboo's trade relations on Corellia, I will be able to be a voice for the people in a way that will enact better trade alliances. And from there? Who knows! Maybe the Chommell sector will get to share a few parsecs of Corellia's expanding trade route!"

"I'm sure when it comes to that point, I'll be hearing all about it in the Palace," I laughed. "Nothing would give the Queen more pleasure than to be cahoots with the Trade Federation's biggest economic rival."

"I'm really excited," Jaina said, her tone growing hushed as she daydreamed about her very real future. I leaned over and gave her a celebratory hug, which she reciprocated.

"I'm so proud of you, Jaina," I said. "When do you leave?"

"Within the month," she replied. "My boss, Yura, wants me to complete my seminary cycle before heading out. My prospective employer was all too happy to oblige the stipulation."

"As well he should be," I regaled. "Corellia's about to get one of the galaxy's best foreign policy experts on their payroll!"

"I refuse to see Naboo fall under the strife of another trade dispute," Jaina said. "I really think I'm going to make a positive and lasting difference for the planet. And I'll be _acting_ on that desire, rather than simply talking about it to the masses."

"I have the upmost faith in you," I said. "Just…promise me you'll stay in contact?"

"Don't be silly! Of course I'll keep in touch. I'll be downright annoying with my influx of holograms. I'll have no shortage of things to tell you."

"Good," I smiled.

"But in the _meantime_ ," Jaina rose, then made three strides across the way to a stack of old cargo units. "Let's see if we can't find a dress that will turn the head of your handsome Jedi."

* * *

I had successfully tempered Jaina's overzealous desire to have me dress ostentatiously for a simple dinner. We sent off my handmaiden gown to be cleaned and pressed while we dined. Because of Jaina's flair for the dramatic, I still felt like a spectacle by the time we had returned downstairs. I was donned in a modest, floor length dress. The mauve of the fabric was contrasted by a light layer of beige lace that danced around the bodice and sleeves. It had a high neckline that ran parallel to my collarbones, and the sleeves hugged at my elbows, but the gown permitted both comfort and the ease of movement. Jaina pleaded to do my hair, and I only obliged her if she agreed to do something simple. After all, I told her, the whole point of coming home was to avoid the constancy of fashion and presentation.

By the time we had reconvened in the kitchen, my father had already joined in on the preparations with Mother and Obi-Wan. They seemed to be maintaining a comfortable rapport between each other. My father, a man who usually preferred to be stand-offish and quietly observant, had instead engaged himself in a hearty conversation with Obi-Wan while they assorted the place settings for the table.

"Welcome home, Sabé," Father greeted me with a hug and a smile.

"It's good to see you, father." I always felt so small in his big arms. He was a tall, broad man with a strong jaw and imposing posture. Both Jaina and my father were big boned and sturdy looking. Their physique was ideal for a life of farming. Which worked as an advantage for my father's line of work, and had always been an area of insecurity for my sister's vanity. But both were absolutely stunning to look at, as far as I was concerned. Jaina and my father both had thick hair; about three shades darker than the brown hair that I shared with my mother. And their eyes had a cool grey gaze that reminded me of the shorelines of the Solleu River's inland deltas. They also exuded a certain kind of confidence that further elaborated their distinguishment.

"Handel was just telling me about your experience with the litter of tookes," Obi-Wan informed me. There was a devious twinkle in his eye.

"Oh no," I groaned. "Not that story." I cast a mortified look at my mother, who was busying herself on the far counter. "Father didn't exploit anything too embarrassing, did he?"

"No more or less than would be expected," my mother said unhelpfully. She threw me a wink while she continued preparing beverages and appetizers.

"Did you really have five baby tookes trapped in your hair?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Six, actually," I confirmed, submitting to my humiliation.

Jaina erupted in laughter. "I'd forgotten all about that!" she exclaimed.

"How could you forget when you were the one who put me up to it?" I demanded, sparing her no escape from my accusatory glare.

"I hadn't heard this side of the story," Obi-Wan said, his curiosity piqued.

I sighed resignedly. If he was going to hear the embarrassing account of my childhood trauma, it was better that it came from me. "When I was four, Jaina and I had found an abandoned litter of baby tookes hidden in our front garden. Jaina insisted we bring them home to take care of them, even though we knew mother wouldn't approve of it. I told her we'd be caught and get in trouble. But for some reason, Jaina had me _convinced_ that if I hid them in my hair, then mother would be none the wiser. 'After all,' she'd said, 'your hair basically matches their fur.'"

Obi-Wan covered his hand with his mouth—a desperate attempt to hide his amused reaction to my plight.

"So of course, I fell for it. The baby tookes adorned my hair, and upon entering the house, my mother had noticed _right away_. She was horrified. Father was keeled over in laughter, and I was suddenly panicking, because these little tookes kept squirming awkwardly in my hair—keep in mind, Tookes don't really have arms, just stubby hands and long, bowed legs—and by the time I had made it inside the house, these tookes had gotten inescapably snarled into my hair."

"Sabé was crying, the tookes were squeaking…" Jaina supplied. "It was a real mess."

"Mother had to end up cutting my hair just to free the little beasts," I said. "To this day, I don't care for the creatures."

"It gets better," my father interrupted. "After we had tucked the girls in for the night, Sabé took it upon herself to retaliate against Jaina."

"What did she do?" Obi-Wan gave me a wry glance.

I leaned forward and intoned theatrically: "I took my hair—the hair that mother had shorn off—and put lumps of it all around Jaina's bed…and started imitating their evil little squeaks."

"You didn't!"

"Unfortunately, I did," I said. "My revenge worked at first, when she was still not-quite-awake enough to recognize that she was surrounded by hair clumps as opposed to baby tookes. After that, of course, I was in for it."

I was met with more laughter. Even I couldn't help smiling just a little bit.

* * *

 _ **Late Evening**_

 _ **Outskirts of Ferentina; Near the Docks of Solleu River**_

Night had fallen hours after our dinner had finished. Obi-Wan and I departed from the Evoria homestead with lots of hugs, thank-yous and come agains to last us a lifetime. Before I had us return to Theed Palace, I wanted to show him one more place in Ferentina. A place where I knew we wouldn't be interrupted like we had been repeatedly throughout the day. There was much we needed to discuss before he was to depart from my life again.

There was an old bridge that overlooked the Solleu River. The view was such that we could see the distant cliffsides and waterfalls that bordered the capital city of Theed. The waterfall that cascaded into the Solleu River was located between the Theed spaceport and the Royal Palace. I pointed out the landmarks to Obi-Wan.

"That's where our secret passage was when we sneaked into Theed during the occupation," I said. "And further back is the Livet Tower and funeral dome."

"I think I see it," Obi-Wan said. "Is the Livet Tower the narrower building with the light emitting from the dome?"

I nodded. "We call that the Eternal Flame," I explained. "It's a visual reminder of our mortality, and a reverence to the deceased. It also serves as a form of encouragement, entreating everyone to live their days in harmony."

"We stood there shortly after Qui-Gon's funeral," Obi-Wan recalled.

"That's right." I felt the sympathy come upon me like the gentle spray of a misted ocean breeze. I was surprised at how casual he sounded in reference to his old Master. Nearly three years had elapsed since he had witnessed Qui-Gon's murder, but if I didn't know better, I would have assumed the event had happened a decade ago.

Obi-Wan looked back on me. Reactively, I looked away, staring at the rucksack my father had provided for us. Inside it contained my clean handmaiden gown, and assorted leftovers for us to bring back with us to Theed. It also held the Zenda stone, which peeked out from beneath the lip of the rucksack's hood. After my latest interaction with the talisman, I was less than excited about the possibility of wearing it and potentially passing out in the presence of my family.

"There's more you need to tell me, isn't there?" Obi-Wan asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

"Yes," I replied. "But it's not about my visions…It's about something else." I told him about my exchange with Kasaré, about the assassination attempt on Padmé. I told him about Zam Wesell's recurring appearances on political assaults against Amidala. I told him about the Advisory Council and their connections with Ars Veruna, the Order of Sanctuary, and how they manipulated Kasaré's handmaidens into framing her for the attempt on Padmé's life. I told him about the list of names that Kasaré decrypted, and how they were all from the royal advisory council. And then I informed him of what information I needed in order to legitimize Kasaré's claim.

Obi-Wan remained silent and attentive throughout, crossing his arms and nodding occasionally.

"So…you need me to investigate on this matter?"

"I just need you to see what information you can dig up about the Advisory Council, and see if you can correlate any communications with the Order of Sanctuary."

"Based on what you've told me, the most obvious correlation between the two groups is tethered by Captain Panaka," Obi-Wan said.

"Well, he needed the Council's approval in order to reinstate the Order," I explained.

"I'm aware," Obi-Wan said patiently. "What I'm saying is that he might be the easiest window to peek through."

"I don't want to risk trusting him yet," I said. "I don't know how deep the corruption goes; whether they have something on him or if he's somehow he's directly involved."

"Either way," Obi-Wan said, "He was in active communication with both parties. There may be a direction to go off from whatever information you manage to glean from him."

"But how can I do that without arousing suspicion?" I asked.

"Given the nature of Panaka's position, I can guarantee that his comlink will have a secure channel with a record of transmission history. You could hack into that device and locate the signal from the encrypted information vault. It would be your best shot at finding evidence to support your cause."

"I'm embarrassed to say that I hadn't thought of that."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I've done my fair share of this kind of work," he said. "But given your convenient proximity to Panaka, you will have better chances of procuring that kind of information instead of me."

My mind began to whir with new ideas and plans to enable that idea to spring into reality. "At the very least I should be able to get the names of Kasaré's handmaiden roster," I said. "Including the ones who had been removed from the rotation. Once I question them, I'll have evidence that stems within my jurisdiction without raising immediate questions about how I obtained their information."

"I advise you to tread carefully in this matter, my friend," Obi-Wan cautioned. "I understand you require expediency to ensure an all clear from the Queen. But if you get too hasty, your investigation may end before it can even begin."

I pursed my lips, stewing over my new scheme.

"If in the event I find information that extends beyond the reach of my capabilities, might I be able to contact you?" I asked. "I'd feel better knowing I have outside support in this."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said.

"Thank you."

We sat in silence for a while, neither of us wanting to bring up the inevitable topic of his next departure.

Then, Obi-Wan raked his fingers through his hair, heaved a sigh, and stood up from our seat on the dock. "I should head back," he said. "I have an apprentice to get back to."

"Of course," I replied. "Do you need anything from your quarters at the palace?"

"I travel light," Obi-Wan said. "There's no need for me to return to the Palace."

I nodded. "All right. I'll get you to the hangar and see you off."

This departure was strangely easier for me. There was no residual tension like last time. Obi-Wan was no longer harrowed with grief, and I no longer felt eclipsed by torrents of trauma. We had both grown up, and both had regained a sense of purpose. He would continue to train the young Anakin Skywalker, and I would continue on my path to protect my queen.

Of course, I now had the added mystery of trying to control and interpret these newfound dreams, but even that gave me a strange sense of fulfillment. It was diverting of the attention I might have otherwise spent pining over a man I could never have. And after spending time with him again after all these years, I could take comfort in knowing that our friendship was still a valuable one.

I watched from within the hangar as Obi-Wan sped away on his Delta-7 _Aethersprite_ Starfighter. Within moments, his ship had telescoped into a small beacon in the night sky before disappearing from sight completely. I took in the night sky for a few additional moments, savoring my final moments of free time before retreating back towards the Palace.

Theed Plaza was dimly illuminated, warmed by the plasma lanterns and nighttime bustle of activity. The palace was still about a ten-minute walk from my current position. I hoisted my rucksack onto my other shoulder, and retrieved my comlink from my pocket.

"Rabé, it's Sabé. I think I have a hunch for how to proceed with operation Status Quo."

" _Finally, there you are,"_ came Rabé's reply.

I was confused at her urgency. "Is something the matter? You know you could have contacted me at any time. My comlink never left my side."

" _I wasn't about to interrupt your time with Obi-Wan,"_ Rabé said. _"As it is, your excursion is going to be the last time you'll be happy in a long time."_

My stomach sank in dread. "What do you mean?"

" _The Advisory Council is onto you, Sabé. As of tomorrow, you will officially be relieved of your duty as a royal decoy."_


	6. My Kingdom for a Farce!

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Five – My Kingdom for a Farce!_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _So...about posting a chapter per month...my sincerest apologies on the 2 month delay! A word of the wise (and by wise I mean idiot-who-now-knows-better): Don't take 4 college literature courses at the same time. Your life will be a never ending marathon of intense reading and writing. I sold my soul to school this semester...This chapter is the culmination of every spare moment I could afford since February. I hope it meets your satisfaction._

 _You'll be pleased to know that finals are fast approaching for me (like, NEXT week from now!), so I can actually guarantee another chapter will be posted before the month is over! I hope you haven't given up on me, because even though I've been scarce, my story is 100% outlined so I have a goal and a trajectory that I fully intend to follow through on._

 _Read and review! Thank you so much to those of you who have taken the time to express your interest in the story, it continues to inspire and motivate. :)_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **2 Years Later; 28 BBY**

"I'm not bitter," I protested. "Why would I be bitter about it?" In my thinly veiled frustration, I downed my last swig of alcohol.

"Don't lie to me," Dané replied. "You know as well as I do how much that position meant to people like us."

I snorted. "Playing dress up and putting up with pretentious dignitaries? Please."

Dané crossed her arms and leaned towards me from across the booth, asserting the seriousness of her tone. "Don't pretend I can't see how much this has been destroying you. How long has it been, a year? Two years?"

I shrugged carelessly. "Give or take."

Dané scoffed. "You're really going to keep pretending it never mattered?"

"Prissy always resented me," I said, invoking the nickname that I used for Padmé in my younger years. "Why in the thirty-six star systems would I miss working for someone as self-righteous as her?"

Dané arched an eyebrow. "Because she was still your friend, despite everything."

I scowled, staring into my empty shot glass. She was right, of course. But, regardless of the ties I had made in Theed Palace, and the devotion I felt to my duty, I knew that my handmaiden days were over.

Our conversation was laced with double talk and code names, but it was disguised so seamlessly as idle small talk that I knew that no one within hearing distance would suspect the true nature of our tête-à-tête.

After my debacle with Kasaré, I had been dishonorably discharged as a decoy. To this day, I remained unsure whether Yané had outed me, or if someone within the advisory council had caught on to my intentions.

Padmé entreated that I remain within her circle—restricted to a role similar to Saché's within the confines of the palace. I had declined her request, and instead seized my circumstance as an opening for new opportunities. I asked Panaka if I could be relocated into a different branch of the Royal Security Forces. I would have fewer security privileges, but at least I wouldn't be under Panaka's microscope anymore.

In a way, I had a different kind of freedom in unraveling Kasaré's conspiracy theory. The only downside is that it would take me far longer to make any progress. In the meantime, I busied myself by doing work for Naboo's Royal Security Forces under the direction of Senior Officer Daéla Boran. The fieldwork with the RSF was way beneath my usual paygrade and professional qualifications, but the rest of the world remained eternally ignorant of that fact.

All but Dané, that is. Like me, she had also left the Order of Sanctuary, though she had done so years earlier and by her own choice. She had joined customs security and remained active with the Naboo Underground. I was inclined to partake in her quasi-exile from the Order. As far as anyone else in the RSF was concerned, we had simply left our career as silent ladies-in-waiting in favor for a life of more excitement.

During my interaction with Dané, I saw movement from my peripherals, and flicked my eyes toward the motion in subtle acknowledgement. It took a micro-second to ascertain who had moved, where he was going, and why.

It was a Weequay—not exactly an inconspicuous operative, since Weequays hardly appeared in a place as culturally elitist as Naboo. However, they were often known to habituate near the Kassoti spice mines on Naboo, which was only a few clicks south of where we were now. The newcomer had seated himself a couple of booths away from the space that was occupied by Dané and myself. Sitting at the booth indicated that he was waiting for someone, which came as no surprise to us.

Casually, I rested my fingertip against the side of my throat, activating the tiny mouthpiece that had been surgically applied beneath my skin. I continued our fake conversation. "Friend or no, she was still nothing more than a job," I said to Dané. _Job_ was the code word for our intended target.

Dané hardly needed my cue to recognize his entrance. She leaned back in her seat, an action meant to insinuate that she was irritated with my response. But I knew she was doing so in order to get a better look at the Weequay seated behind me. She gave me the cue for the affirmative by tugging at a lock of her bright red hair.

He was our guy.

" _Got your signal, Dollface. We're setting up a perimeter now."_ The voice that came from my earchip belonged to Santo, one of our surveillance agents. My call sign had been dubbed as Dollface due to Dané's influence. I wasn't sure if it was done out of vindictive amusement or if she truly meant to bestow a subliminal homage to my unknown legacy. She was the only one within my work atmosphere who even knew of my days a royal decoy. Santo seemed to prefer calling me Dollface in favor of my actual name, which I found chronically grating.

"You know," Dané said continuing the charade, "if you stopped being so stubborn about your stance on this issue, perhaps you'd understand that you still have strong attachments with your former affiliates."

I faked a docile smile. "I'm well aware," I said. "I just need more time, that's all." The response was directed to Dané and Santo alike. _More time_ was a cue to stand-by until I gave the signal to engage.

We could have seized the Weequay right then and there, but it was clear that he was expecting someone. It would be better to capture him _after_ his engagement so as not to arouse suspicion. All we needed was information, then he would be let go.

We continued our fake conversation for a few minutes longer, waiting for our target to make contact with his cohort.

Nonchalantly, I grazed my left leg against my boot, checking to be sure that my blaster was still holstered underneath it. It was the same Q2 blaster pistol I had been granted from my handmaiden days. It was a weapon better suited for close range self-defense rather than fieldwork, but my aim was accurate enough to still make the weapon a useful one. Not to mention, its benefits as a concealed carry had proved invaluable in the past.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I felt the barrel of a weapon dig into my shoulder blade.

"Take it easy," I said, frozen into acquiescence. I kept my voice calm and conversational, hoping to avoid a firefight.

I glanced up at my contender. He was human, young. Perhaps no older than twenty-five. He was donned in a brown leather jacket and suede pants. His tall stature, scruffy beard, and tousled brown hair gave him a roguish charm that otherwise veiled his threatening demeanor.

Across from me, a Falleen blocked Dané and had a weapon discreetly pointed at her as well. We were both cornered in our booths, left with little other choice other than to submit to our new obstacle.

"We weren't expecting to have company," Dané said drily. Her voice was calm, but her eyes flashed with anger and recognition.

"I never forget a face," the tall man replied. He seated himself next to me, as if we were having a pleasant chat. The only keydifference was he had still kept his blaster poised behind my back. "You've cost me a _lot_ of business over the years, Freckles," he said to Dané.

" _Do we need to engage?"_ Santo's voice crackled in my ears.

"No, I wouldn't say that," Dané stroked idly at her throat, her tone even and deliberate. Code for Santo, and continued dialogue for our rakish opponent. "As I recall, your heist failed because you got ratted out by one of your own men. We were led _right_ to you. The way I see it, your penchant for skimming profits is what caused your arrest last time."

"Last time?" I asked, intervening on the conversation.

"Jonash Solo here is quite the interplanetary smuggler," Dané informed me. Her green eyes stayed riveted fiercely at the man. "Most of his business is procured through the Hutts. We've snagged him here a couple of times, but he's better known for his interferences on Corellian trade routes."

"Yet, by-the-by, business happened to bring me back to the modest sights of Naboo," Jonash elaborated.

"How quaint," I grimaced, adjusting my back against his blaster in obvious malcontent.

Solo gave me a sidelong glance in amusement. "So what brings you two young ladies here on the outskirts? Surely you're not intending to disrupt economic progress?"

"It depends," Dané replied, "You wouldn't happen to be pirating for Somaprin-3, would you?"

"I thought you knew me better than that, Freckles," Solo mocked, putting a hand to his sternum. "Of _course_ I'm looking for Somaprin-3. Spice is my trade, after all." He flashed another confident smile. "Now, since I can't have the two of you impeding on my business transaction, I'm sure we can figure something out here that will work to our mutual advantage."

Dané narrowed her eyes. "I doubt that."

"Now, now," Solo admonished, "Hear me out: we're just gonna keep you two occupied here until I've retrieved the information I need. And don't try whistling for the rest of your brute squad, or my friend Nousan here," he gestured to the Falleen, "will see to it that you regret that decision. He's a _real_ charmer, Nousan." Jonash threw me a wink at this statement. "I'll get through another work day, and the two of you will leave here alive and unscathed. See? Mutual benefits."

I eyed Nousan, who still loomed imposingly over my partner. I was well aware of the capabilities that Falleen were bred with, and truth be told, I was surprised he wasn't putting those skills to use already. Women in particular were more chemically susceptible to their manipulations. Dané and I should have been putty in their hands right now. I suppose Jonash had more faith in his charisma gimmick than he did in biochemical manipulations.

I noticed the Falleen's icy reptilian gaze was steeled to Jonash Solo, rather than at Dané or myself. The restrained ferocity of his stare didn't characterize him as a loyal comrade, but as…what? A resentful crewmember? No. His posture was too authoritative.

Then it dawned on me: The Falleen was meant to be a leash for _Solo_. It seemed that his own employers were policing the roguish brigand as well. I guess the Hutts had caught on to his monetary scams and wanted to protect their own investments. If we played our cards right, this little revelation could work to our advantage.

I noticed Dané's hand was still poised at her neck, keeping her subcutaneous microphone on-line. She was waiting for me to give word to Santo.

"Enough talking," I said. "We're done here."

Jonash had hardly a moment to react before I elbowed his blaster out of his grasp and into my hands. Dané withdrew her own holdout blaster and aimed steadily at Solo. My aim fixated toward the Falleen, who in turn pointed his weapon at me. Solo was left without a weapon.

Within seconds, the doors broke down and Santo's reinforcements arrived. But among the throng, I quickly noticed just how much of the place had been infiltrated by Solo's crew. Blasters were pointed in every direction, and agents were diverted with additional firing volleys. It was a mutual struggle for dominance. At the sight of firearms, the remainder of the bar's customers were in a tizzy, collectively trying to steer clear of the sudden conflict. Dané and I kept our weapons poised and ready for retaliation.

Solo, unfazed by the sudden violence, only clucked his tongue in distaste. "Oh, come now, Dané," he said. "You didn't think I'd come here unprepared, did you?"

"Hardly," Dané said. "Now, hands behind your head before I sick my partner on you."

The contrast was jarring. The chaos of the bar seemed distant and unimportant to our booth. Jonash Solo was visibly uninterested in the commotion; his gaze remaining fixed on Dané's blaster with a strange kind of amusement.

"I'll do you one better, Freckles." Jonash said with a wry smile. "There's a much better way to end this. Nousan?" He shot a glance at the Falleen. "You're up."

My attention diverted to the Falleen, anticipating the worst. I could already feel the Falleen's abilities taking their effect. I wanted to pull the trigger, and found that I was unable to move. The Falleen's manipulation was isolated, but concentrated.

To my chagrin, Jonash took full advantage of the distraction. "You'll have to pardon my reach, sweetheart," he said suavely. In my moment of disorientation, Jonash had retrieved his blaster from my hand and hightailed out of the building. He successfully dodged the incoming blasts from Santo and the other security forces along the way. This man lived for the chase.

"Damn it," I snarled. I fought against the potency of Nousan's manipulation and hoisted myself up from the booth, reaching for my Q2 blaster from my bootleg. If I moved quickly I might avoid succumbing to the full thrall of the Falleen. Solo was a fool to think he might get away so easy. My movements felt forced and sluggish, but I seized control for as long as I possibly could.

"Not so fast," Nousan spoke up at last, his voice deep and resonant.

My steps staggered to a halt, quite against my will. A pleasant feeling suddenly coursed through me. The sensation was thick and heady, like I had been doused by a strong perfume. My resistance had finally crumbled into compliance.

I felt my feet pivot back toward the booth. The Falleen now began to look overwhelmingly beautiful. Not intimidating or abrasive like I had thought earlier…but trusting. Docile. Temperate. In the back of my mind, I could feel my rationality swimming frantically to get away from the hallucination. I had to hunt down a criminal…what was his name? What did he look like? It didn't seem to matter. I blinked slowly, trying to see past the murkiness of my intoxicating bliss.

No one else was inclined to move, either. Not the patrons, not the reinforcements, not Santo; even Dané gleamed at Nousan, her expression dazed and enthralled. This was one powerful Falleen. I had known of one overtaking up to a dozen people at once, but never an entire building.

Nousan ambled languidly toward the Weequay across the room, as though he were holding court. "Now, perhaps you might like to tell me where we can find the remaining supply of Somaprin-3," he said, his voice as soothing as velvet.

Something was getting away from me, but I couldn't quite place what it was. I closed my eyes wrestling to find the thought.

" _This is my gift to you,"_ Minrota's voice echoed vaguely inside the chamber of my mind. A stillness overcame me. No longer was there a haze of confused pheromones and uncertainty. The smog of emotion parted like a curtain. Once again, I could understand everything with perfect clarity. My eyes shot open.

I raised my blaster and pointed it at the Falleen. "Not today, _sleemo_ ," I sneered, harkening to the language of his Hutt employers. Nousan was visibly perturbed by my breakthrough.

"You can't be a Jedi," he said, unable to mask his surprise, his fear. "That's not possible! I had you in my hold!"

"I'm no Jedi." I didn't hesitate. I shot him in cold blood. He fell with an anticlimactic thump. Upon his death, people gradually returned to their senses.

Dané looked to me in wonder.

I didn't give her a chance to mull over what just happened. We still had a job to do.

"Let's go."

* * *

 _ **Later**_

 _ **RSF Headquarters**_

"Not bad today, Dollface," Santo sidled up next to me, thumping my arm affectionately with his fist.

"Thanks," I replied curtly. I kept walking, uninterested in small talk.

Santo, however, didn't want to take my hint. He reinitiated his presence at my side and kept in step with me as I continued my commute through headquarters.

"Hey, you okay? I mean, I know dealing with that Falleen was…unsettling," he recalled with a shudder, "but you _dominated_! If you hadn't shot the guy, we never would have regained control of the situation, and—"

"It doesn't even matter," I interrupted, "Jonash Solo still got away."

Santo shrugged flippantly. "He was just one crewman out of many. We still got the intel we needed from the Weequay, arrested all the criminals that remained on the premises, and _still_ managed to beat Solo to the smuggled spice."

"Doesn't matter," I repeated. "He is _still_ out there, and I'm willing to bet my life's savings that he has more contacts in the underworld than we currently have access to. He would have been a huge asset to eliminating spice pirating on Naboo."

"Hey, hey…" Santo slowed me to a stop, his voice grown serious. I rounded to face him. My patience was waning, but I silently permitted him to patronize me. Santo studied me with concern, his grey eyes stern yet compassionate. He leaned closer in earnest, causing a tuft of his jet-black hair to droop against his forehead. "You're not going to let this weigh you down, are you?" he asked.

My eyes drifted briefly to his breast pocket, where a chrome microchip peeked back at me. On it bore the inscription _S-3_. Clearly, it stored the information on the spice that we absconded from the Weequay and his contact. Quickly, I looked back at Santo, masking my wayward glance as having been contemplative rather than newly fixated.

"Of course not," I replied briskly, "Failure is part of the job." I shrugged away from him and proceeded on my way, knowing he would follow. "And it's all I ever seem to be good at."

"This _wasn't_ a failure, Sabé." Santo persisted. "The mission went sideways, sure, but we recovered and got the information we needed."

 _Finally,_ I made it to the front door of my quarters. I huffed in irritation and gave a quarter turn back to Santo. "Look, Santo," I said, "I appreciate the concern. _Really_ , I do." As I spoke, I tweaked his lapel in mocking patronization. He glanced at the motion, then back at me. I continued, "But if you don't mind, I've had a long day, and I'd rather like to stave off my frustration in solitude." I gave a final tug at his lapel and stepped back, asserting my desire for distance.

Santo's face twitched in momentary offense. "Sure," he said stiffly. "Whatever you say. I guess I'll see you later."

As soon as I was alone, I heaved out a sigh as if it was the first time I had truly breathed all day.

Then I uncurled my fingers and examined the microchip I'd lifted from Santo.

I switched on the lights to my quarters and briefly scanned my solitary haven. It was a mess, to say the least. Assorted papers, multitudes of tinkered technology and abandoned datapads dominated most of my floor space. Maps, drawings, and lists occupied the walls..

I made a face at the clutter and waded my way toward my computer console located across the room. I activated my small techno-service droid, which had sat dormant on the flat surface of the console.

"Oh!" The droid exclaimed upon activation. The joint of the neck lifted its head upright, and two small lights flickered from behind bored holes that constituted as eyes. It jolted in the air, latching the feet together into the shape of a small wheel.

"Hello!" it saluted, "I am Todo360, at your service."

"Hey Todo," I said, reaching from behind to withdraw a cord from its battery pack. "I hope you slept well, because you are about to be overwhelmed with a crazy amount of new information."

"I am fully recharged, and operating at 86% remaining memory capacity," Todo assured me. The robotic voice was monotonous, but strangely friendly. I had grown rather fond of the little droid. I first found Todo as an assorted mess of broken parts. It had been dumped into a garbage waste unit not too far from the RSF headquarters. I took a vague interest in its diminutive size and complex interior circuitry. It became a project of sorts that later turned into my personal black box of classified information.

"Good," I said, ripping off another cable from his backside. "Then this shouldn't take long at all." I replaced the vacant plug with Santo's microchip. Within seconds, the droid reeled back against the wall, surging and spasming with the onslaught of new material.

As the droid loaded its information, I took out a portable jammer and used it to scramble the frequency of my surgically implanted comlinks. I didn't want to risk having anyone overhearing this next conversation I would be having.

Discovering distributions of a drug that would prevent dreams from occurring seemed almost too serendipitous to be true. My dreamlike visions had been growing steadily more unbearable with each passing day. I just needed something to nullify Minrota's persistence, and Somaprin-3 seemed a perfect solution. I had hoped that by suppressing my dreams, I would also be able to suppress the strange force-like qualities I was beginning to exhibit. Even though it had proved helpful in the past, it was unpredictable and uncontrollable. I didn't even know how to begin to describe my situation to anyone who wasn't already aware of it. The last thing I was inclined to do was to drag Obi-Wan into the mess that constituted as my life. He had far more important things to do, for both his Padawan and for the galaxy. This was something I would have to figure out on my own.

I knew without a doubt that the Zenda stone was a talisman of the Force. Its effects seemed to have a potent influence on manipulating my own midichlorian responses. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't a force-sensitive so much as I was a force _puppet_. I only exhibited force capabilities whenever I wore the stone. The abilities had manifested subtly at first…for a while, only my visions seemed to have any bearing on predicting real-world events, and even then they were rather trivial—I'd witness a crime before it would happen and could inform my team of an 'anonymous tip' I'd received.

But I needed a method to temper my newfound ability before it risked getting out of control, and all of my research kept pointing to Somaprin-3. In Naboo, security forces were monitored more closely than the general public to ensure unwavering loyalty, so attempting to obtain my own supply of illegal drugs was a whole new level of inconvenient. I needed to think creatively about my methods. Hence, Todo360.

Finally, the droid settled down from the download. This would have to be quick. If I knew Santo, he'd be checking his pockets before submitting the microchip to senior officer Daéla Boran. Once he noticed the microchip went missing, it wouldn't take him long to reroute back in my direction.

"Now," I said, propping my elbows against my workspace, "what can you tell me about Somaprin-3?"

Todo cocked its head to the side, its beady mechanic eyes blinking systematically as it conjured information. "Somaprin-3: A soporific spice that deters dreams and amplifies lethargy within most organisms. In medicinal moderation, it eases insomnia for patients with severe trauma disorders. Modifications to the spice magnify its addictive properties, making it illegal in 6 of 10 galactic regions."

"Any information on where most of the spice is being manufactured?"

Todo's artificial eyes blinked. "Mustafar."

Of course it would be in Mustafar. It was only the most unassailable base of operations for the Black Sun crime syndicate. I wouldn't be able to even glimpse in that direction. I needed a subtler point of access.

"Does your intel provide any information on how to procure regular dosages?"

"Distribution often varies, due to the irregularity of smuggling trade routes."

"Are there any dealer locations in Naboo?"

"Unknown."

Figures. I huffed in mild frustration, and glanced at a planetary map I had pinned to the wall adjacent to my computer system. Frantic scrawls and lines zigzagged across the paper. It was the closest trail I had to locating Kasaré based on her known whereabouts. She would have been my ideal resource in figuring out how to illicitly obtain illegal products.

Unfortunately, as indicated by my fanatic scrawls, Kasaré was impossible to find. Shortly after the reclamation, Kasaré had been located sporadically, as though she was a fading blip on the radar. Then after six standard months, she had disappeared altogether. It was as if she had completely vanished. This woman was untouchable, which proved frustrating to me. She was my only real access point in unraveling the conspiracy against the Queen.

However, the fact that she was invisible on security records indicated to me that she still hadn't been found. The advisory council would want to make her capture a spectacle; if anything to deter anyone else from daring to oppose them. So if she had still evaded capture, then I still had hope of finding her. But until I had a viable clue, I was stuck in my own world with my own problems.

"Is there any other information on that microchip you can dispel for me?" I asked Todo.

"There is a catalog of interested buyers for the S-3 cargo that was housed here on Naboo," Todo informed me.

"Anyone of interest?"

"I'm sure I do not understand," Todo said innocently. "I am a droid. Nothing interests me."

I sighed, rephrasing. "Are there any names that crop up that are relevant to our search history?"

"Oh yes. One potential buyer is from Naboo, but is now currently located on Corellia. It is filed under the name of Jaina Evoria."

My stomach turned to stone. Jaina? Not possible. Why in Shiraya's name would she be in want of Somaprin-3?

"You're sure?"

"Most certain," Todo said. "I can link the information to your datapad if you require visual proof of documentation."

"No no, that won't be necessary," I said quickly. I didn't want any of the information to become traceable back to me. Todo was my only failsafe.

I felt something akin to anxiety stir inside me. I sensed…Santo was returning. Sometimes this uninvited force-sensitivity was a true blessing. I would have to move quickly.

"Todo I need you to wipe the data on Jaina."

"If you're certain…" Todo expressed doubtfully. Illegal activity often made the droid queasy but I had adjusted its programming so that it could override any legal inhibitions to its protocol.

"Yes. Do it now. Quickly."

"Yes mistress."

"I'm going to unplug the microchip now,"

"Very well."

"And I'm going to remove your head joint as well," I said after removing the chip.

This incited protest. "WHAT? Mistress, you don't mean to _decapitate_ me?"

"Oh hush, it won't kill you," I said. "I just need you to look like an incomplete project so that Santo doesn't suspect your involvement and take you away. Because that… _that_ might kill you."

"Oh my," the droid quivered, putting a tiny hand to its carved mouthpiece. The fear of the alternative permitted Todo to submit to my action. I traded the memory component of Todo's head gear with the model of a similar prototype. Its head was now an empty case, and the true information was safely tucked into the empty chamber of my Q2 blaster pistol.

My automated door breathed open moments after I had holstered my Q2 back to its former hiding place.

"I was wondering when you'd make your way back here," I said, lightly tapping the microchip against the surface of my desk. My role had resumed to that of a smug, teasing coworker. "I was beginning to grow bored of waiting for you."

"Okay, Dollface, I know you don't like me. But if you could try not to make me look bad in front of the boss, I'd really appreciate it."

"I don't know what you mean," I said coyly. "Don't you _always_ look bad?"

" _I get it_ , I'm not as good at double-talk and undercover tactics," Santo said gruffly. "That doesn't mean you should make fun of me for it. It stopped being funny five instances ago. Now, the microchip, if you please."

"If it's any consolation, you're getting faster at recognizing my tactics," I said, returning the chip to him.

"I never seem to catch you until after I've already left the conversation," Santo griped. "Not sure that constitutes as a compliment."

"Any progress is good progress."

He put the microchip safely back into his pocket then glanced back at me. "Were you… _actually_ upset earlier?" he asked, his tone hesitant. "Or was that just another one of your tactics?"

I gave a thin smile, not bothering to answer. I was both smug and sympathetic to his ignorance. "You know, you're too authentic for this kind of life," I said.

"Perhaps," he said, straightening his jacket. "But at least my integrity is never brought to question."

It was an innocent remark. There was no malice in his response and he had no way of knowing it, but the words weighed heavily on me. We both knew my mind games were a crucial component to catching bad guys with minimal casualty. He did the grunt work, but I did the dirty work, and it was all too easy to recognize which was the nobler calling.

"True enough," I said, unsure of how else to respond. I felt a glimmer of shame for being so immersed in this constant routine of deceit. But I had been wearing the mask for so long that I had forgotten how to operate without it. It was my shield and protection. Rabé, Yané, Eirtaé, Saché…even Padmé sometimes…they were among the very few who had grown intimately aware of the inner feelings that I had grown accustomed to keep locked away.

"You're…impossible to read," Santo said, eyeing me with wary interest. My eyes riveted back to his. The soft gray of his eyes reminded me of Saché—and my heart panged with a secret sense of loss.

"I like to keep it that way," I replied. "it's the best way to protect what I care about."

"And what _do_ you care about?"

"Peace," I said simply. Though if I were being completely honest, I could no longer find a noble word to describe my motives anymore. My delusion of the government's altruism had died a long time ago. And I had grown more certain that something inside me had died right along with it.

* * *

 ** _Closing A/N:_** _Yes, it's_ ** _THAT_** _Jonash Solo. (He only has a stub on wookieepedia so I'm taking artistic liberties. He was fun to write! Kind of like a chaotic-neutral version of Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly tbh.)_


	7. Charting a New Course

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Six – Charting a New Course_

* * *

As lead strategists for the mission at the Kassoti bar, Santo, Dané and I had been summoned to give a full overview of our mission to our senior officer, Daéla Boran. Ordinarily Daéla would only require a logged entry of our recollection. But since the mission deviated significantly from the initial plan, Daéla required further inquiry to try and discern why our plans went awry. When surprises happened, we would often run the risk of making future mistakes or overlooking crucial evidence on why things didn't go as planned. Daéla Boran was nothing short of thorough.

Naboo held itself to a certain standard. The stout pacifist policies of the Amidala administration went through great lengths to ensure that we maintained a strong illusion of safety for the masses. As a handmaiden, I had often assumed that meant the populace was in a harmonious state of peace. As a field agent, I learned rapidly that aggressive tensions undulated even outside of the political regime. Unfortunately, our job was less about protecting the citizens of our planet, and more about scrubbing away and suppressing any semblance of criminal activity. The more we strove to actualize a global utopia, the less enticing it became as a reality.

"This was supposed to be clean and simple," Daéla reprimanded. "In and out; no ruckus. Now I've got Captain Panaka breathing down my back because your operation went public. Explain the situation."

Daéla was an imposing individual; broad and chiseled in a way that would make any middle-aged woman look like she was carved from obstinate matter. Her eyes were hard and direct, and her lips seemed to be permanently sealed in that severe, judgmental manner. Her trademark was one arched eyebrow that never seemed to settle into a softer symmetry. Her appearance revealed a very active and abrasive life prior to her promotion as a senior officer, indicated by the hashes of old scars that scored the length of her jaw and neck. She was unarguably dedicated to her cause, and that hard-pressed vehemence reinforced our own tenacity on the job.

My counterparts and I sat opposite of Daéla, our postures as stiff and prosaic as the chairs in which we sat.

I spoke first. "Jonash Solo made an unexpected appearance," I reported. "We were overrun by members of his crew. Solo managed to slip through our fingers during the chaos, but we still met the objectives of the mission."

"How did this happen?" I knew the question was in regards to our oversight.

Dané piped up "I was recognized by Solo," Dané said. "Had we known he would be involved in the spice cartel; I wouldn't have risked going undercover. Santo's surveillance records indicated that the meeting at the Kassoti bar would be a one-on-one exchange with an independent buyer."

"Obviously not the case," Daéla replied.

"We had no knowledge of Solo's involvement," Santo defended respectfully. "Since he has had run-ins with us before, it is likely that he knew about our monitoring patterns and either found a different method of communication, or decided to take advantage of our ignorance."

Daéla cast her gaze toward Santo. "Is there any reason to assume your surveillance system may have been hacked?" she asked.

Santo shook his head. "My mainframe is airtight," Santo said. "I have full assurances from my team that nothing had been tampered with—inside or out."

Daéla nodded. "Just in case," she said, "I want you to double check the transmission history files. Make sure nothing interceded our encryptions prior to the mission."

"Yes ma'am," Santo rose from his seat, recognizing the dismissal.

Daéla continued, "Dané, I would like for you to oversee the interrogation protocols. See if there's any additional information we can get out of the Weequay we have stored in our holding cell. Here's the paperwork on all the information we presently have." She slid the folder across her large desk.

Dané followed Santo out the door, pausing briefly to look back at Daéla and myself before resuming her exit.

I wanted to shift uncomfortably in my seat; to avoid Daéla's unsettlingly direct eye contact. But I refused to give any indication of my discomfiture.

"Evoria." My name was said curtly.

"Yes?"

"How would you feel about working a long-distance op?"

"I will go where I'm needed," I replied. "What's the job?"

"I have an informant with a lead on Jonash Solo. He was spotted near the Kasotti landing bays, hitching a ride to Corellia. We cannot risk having his eventual return cause a repeat of this spectacle."

"I agree," I lied. As much as I disliked the vagabond, I disliked the RSF's prerogative for decorum even more. Hiding the existence of crime was perhaps the biggest crime of all. Jonash Solo was hardly an active threat so much as a public nuisance.

Daéla continued, "Captain Panaka has informed me of your extensive skills as a covert operative. With that in mind, you have been the one I've selected to eliminate Solo."

No amount of training could have stopped me from hiding my shock. "Eliminate? You can't mean for me to _assassinate_ him?"

"You're a killer shot, and an expert at remaining unseen," Daéla said, unfazed by my audacity. "This needs to be seamless, quick, and untraceable; and you're the best candidate for the job."

I was flabbergasted. "With due respect, the Galactic Republic has _clear_ stipulations on planetary jurisdiction. I can't just fly to Corellia to murder a petty thief. What you're asking me to do is highly illegal."

"That's never seemed to stop you before," Daéla said. She tossed the familiar S-3 microchip at me.

I seized it reflexively, feeling a fresh wave of alarm course through me.

"What are you implying?" I asked, trying to mitigate my rising panic.

"There's nothing to imply. A spice dealer would have little need to erase a client on his roster. The data corruption on that chip could only have occurred from someone here on base. A quick surveillance check led me straight to your little exchange with Santo."

Daéla switched on her hologram projector on her desk. It was an image of Santo and myself in the hallway near my quarters. The image silently conveyed our conversation; his persistence, my feigned agitation. Then the track slowed to a pause when I performed my sleight of hand for the microchip.

My stomach churned in dread. I had been caught.

"Expertly handled," Daéla observed blithely. "I probably wouldn't have even noticed the theft if you hadn't done such a rush job on manipulating the microchip in the first place."

"Is this blackmail? Are you going to turn me in if I don't pursue Solo?"

"Oh, far from it." Daéla countered. "I have no intention of revealing this information."

"Why not?" My instinct to act on pretense was now on high alert. I kept my eyes locked toward her and remained seated, hoping to discern what Daéla meant by her comment. To my frustration, her countenance remained expertly neutral.

"Frankly, it's because you're one of my top agents," Daéla said. "Out of the two years you've been here, this is the _only_ time I've ever seen you slip up. Panaka was foolish to remove you from the Queen's secret service. You may have a tendency to defy orders, but your records indicate that you have _always_ done so for the right reasons. I rely on that kind of innovation. It ensures that the job will get done, regardless of what it may cost you. It may not have worked to Panaka's advantage, but it sure as hell works for me."

I side-eyed the paused hologram. Despite her reassurances to the contrary, there was no mistaking that she now held evidence that could easily destroy me. I was irreparably trapped. If I were to defect from any of her forthcoming orders, she could easily show the documentation to Panaka, and my career might come to a screeching halt. I could be imprisoned. Or if I became too much of an interference, I could end up eliminated in the same way I would have to eliminate a paltry smuggler. She knew this as well as I did. This was as much a performance for Daéla as it was for me.

I was now left with no choice. I had to go to Corellia and kill Jonash Solo.

Daéla rose from her chair and migrated around her desk, leaning against its edge. She weaved her fingers together and firmly set them against her lap. It was a subtle, authoritative gesture designed to juxtapose her power over my inferiority.

"Off the record, I'm none too pleased with the way things are run either," she sympathized with an edge of patronization. "But our loyalty is to the safety of Naboo. Surely you of all people remember the consequences we faced when Naboo lost its last line of defense."

I also distinctly remembered how we had no way of protecting ourselves because the advisory council perverted Padmé's pacifism into a political weakness. We were overrun; without weapons, without military. The radicalization of pacifist ideals made us vulnerable, and almost seemed to _invite_ the Trade Federation to strike against us. And whatever semblance of military had been formulated after the reclamation was quickly restricted by the advisory council's unchecked bidding. Naboo had always been oppressed…Even before the Trade Federation made its appearance. I was just too blind to see it at the time. But I couldn't risk exploiting them yet. And I knew better than to confide in such thoughts with Daéla. I had no idea where her allegiance truly resided. For all I knew, this entire mission could be designed to lead me into a trap.

With that in mind, I retained my charade. "I remember all too well," I rejoined.

"Glad we're in agreement," Daéla said, returning to her seat. "A tracker has been planted on the vessel Jonash Solo departed on. Its sequence has been plotted into the nav computer of your ship."

"My ship?"

Daéla continued as if I hadn't interrupted her. "All of the arrangements have been made. You'll be departing from Dock 12 within the hour."

"Yes ma'am." I said, rising from my chair. Realizing I still had the microchip in my hand, I returned set it on the desk before I made my retreat.

"And Sabé," Daéla called after me.

"Yes?" I turned, reproached by the permanent arch of her judgmental eyebrow.

"This operation will require the fullest extent of your undercover capabilities," Daéla warned. "Don't give me an excuse to expose your shortcomings to Panaka."

So I _was_ being blackmailed. My limbs began to tingle with a blossoming resentment for my senior officer. It took all of my self-control to avoid balling my fingers into a fist. Instead, I sustained an air of placidity in my reply.

"Understood."

* * *

I tried desperately to quell my nerves after I left Daéla's office space. My whole body wanted to tremble and shudder in response to the fear, relief, and tension that had been hitting against me like rollicking waves. My training in self-control had managed to subdue the worst of my anxiety; but I couldn't eradicate the isolated tremors in my hands as I hastened back to my quarters.

I couldn't stay under Daéla's thumb forever. After I finished my job at Corellia, I would have to go dark. There was no way I would be able to continue my pursuit with Daéla's new hold over me. I was about to enter into fugitive status.

As soon as I entered my room, I discovered it was completely barren. My maps, charts, and information packets had all been removed from the premesis. Daéla must have ordered someone to clear out everything during our meeting. Even Todo was missing. I had nothing left. I was overwrought with a sudden exhaustion. But fear and panic kept me from collapsing in utter defeat.

They had taken everything. Everything that I defined my sense of purpose. I suddenly felt very cold with fear.

Daéla wanted to ensure that I had no resources left to encourage me to defect from the RSF, that much was clear. I had made _one_ false move, and now everything was falling apart. I wanted to cry; to curse, and scream and dismantle everything in sight. But I knew I had to act quickly.

I pulled my Q2 from my bootleg and double checked the chamber, relieved that I still had Todo's memory database in my possession. I would have to find a similar Todo360 model to access the information. But at least I still had it. That was a start. And it was just enough to convince me to hightail out of here.

The Jewel of Zenda warmed against my skin, effectively calming my physiological tension. Despite my ongoing quandary with the gem and its incessant pull for me to succumb to a so-called 'destiny,' I found myself comforted by its familiarity in the midst of all this chaos.

I touched my throat, realizing that I would have to perform a self-surgery to remove the subcutaneous comlink in order to cut off any point of access for the RSF to track me down. That would not be fun. But at this point, if I was already a criminal, I may as well get used to living my life as such. Instead of ducking under rules, I would be completely at liberty to just ignore the rules in order to meet my own ends.

After I killed Jonash, Daéla would be left to assume that she had me under her complete control. It would be a small window of time, but it would conceivably be the best time to cover my tracks and escape for good. My new mission was to fade out of existence and strategize a new plan to find Kasaré Veruna and help overthrow the government.

The docks were no different than they had looked any other time I had been to the main hangar. But knowing this would be my last time walking the floors made my heart hurt a little bit. The RSF was located adjacent to the plasma generator pits and below the hangar itself. The location harbored many memories for me.

My mind's eye conjured recollections as I passed through the vast room. As the large entrance door opened, I recalled the formidable sith assassin that dueled with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon during the Reclamation.

I passed by the parked J-Type Nubian cruiser and remembered how we had barely escaped the occupation with our lives. I remembered struggling to enact my role as a decoy for the first time, donned in a black gown with a feathered Shirayan headdress, running frantically from battle droids and blaster fire.

I heard the roar of the waterfall that spilled out from beneath the hangar's runway and into the Solleu river far below, remembering how I had organized teams to liberate camps that were scattered along the lengths of the river's shoreline.

As I neared Dock 12, I looked out towards the bright afternoon sky, remembering how I had watched Obi-Wan depart on the same day I had been discharged from the Order of Sanctuary.

None of these memories were happy ones. But they were my memories. And they were memories that shaped who I had become. They were memories that reminded me of what I was fighting for.

"Sabé!" My melancholy was interceded by the sound of Dané's voice. She came running toward me, her face flush from the exertion. She must have been trying to catch up to me for a while.

"Dané?"

"Thank the stars I got to you in time!" she said. "I heard you had a new field assignment."

I nodded. "That seems to be the case."

"I just finished my interrogation with the Weequay. He had some information that might prove useful for your pursuit." She handed me a datapad. "He revealed the location of his employer. He may have some clue into your investigation."

Upon inspection I noted the coordinates were located near one of Corellia's moons. I glanced up at her. How did she know where I would be going? I couldn't press her on the matter while we were surrounded by civilians and witnesses. But Dané anticipated my confusion and tapped at the coordinates. "Type these into the nav computer and you'll find the answers you need."

I was fiercely attuned to double talk. I could recognize every modulation in Dané's tone and decipher its deeper meaning accordingly. The Weequay's information wasn't just for my assignment. There was more to it. I glanced back at the information.

 _M-11: 201, 8052,001._

I recognized M-11 as the grid coordinates for Corellia. But the other sequence…they were in the Coruscanti coordinate system, but they were more than navigation symbols. They were a code. Dané had something more to say that she didn't want to risk having the RSF overhear. Was she onto me as well? Had I really messed up so spectacularly? I had no idea what to make of this, and now was hardly the time to press her for answers.

I played along with the charade. "Thank you, Dané," I said.

There was a quiet urgency that lurked behind the impregnable barrier of her emerald green eyes. "Best of luck on your mission," she said, offering me a handshake goodbye. I noticed a jammer peeking beneath her sleeve and into her palm.

Realizing what she wanted me to do, I clasped her hand and pulled her into a quick hug, activating the jammer. Our proximity would lead RSF surveillance to believe that our proximity wigged out the comlink frequencies. We had a brief moment of uncensored communication.

"Go to Corellia's farthest moon," Dané whispered rapidly. "There's a derelict satellite on its orbit. Kasaré Veruna needs to make contact with you."

The news was staggering. Overwhelming. I was dizzy with confusion over who to trust, what to do. As quickly as Dané had made the comment, she removed herself from my embrace. The moment of truth was over.

"Goodbye, Sabé." Her voice was casual, friendly, unwavering in nonchalance.

I blinked, recovered, and resumed my role. "Thank you. Goodbye."

I walked up the gangplank of my ship, forcing myself to avoid looking back at Dané. My unexpected ally.

I hit the clamp to seal the ship and made my way to the cockpit. My hands were gripped tightly to the datapad Dané had given me.

The whole time…Dané had known about my intentions the _whole time_. I thought I was alone in this. And I only found out she was involved on the cusp of my self-elected exile. I knew I couldn't go back. I think Dané must have known that too. I wondered how else she may have been helping me from behind the scenes…and for how long. Perhaps I would never know. But it was just as likely that she was planted by Daéla or Panaka as a means to keep me on my toes, to manipulate my every move. This was all the more reason for me to go rogue. I would heed Dané's involvement with a grain of salt.

My head was spinning. I still wasn't sure whether or not I could fully trust her. But she knew my intentions had everything to do with the Veruna conspiracy. Which, certainly now that I had a lead to go on, was true. But I didn't know whose side Dané was truly on. Daela and Panaka both seemed to have different motives at my expense. But both of them knew that they'd have to outsmart me in order to stop me. And that was too much of a headache to wrestle through just yet.

In the meantime, until I successfully managed to get off the grid, my goal was now to assassinate Jonash Solo, decrypt Dané's code, somehow make contact with Kasaré, and harass Jaina about why she was on the roster for purchasing Somaprin-3. Not to mention, I had also previously intended to procure some S-3 for my own use if possible.

I had a busy excursion to look forward to…with convoluted layers of additional secrecy just to complicate things. After I finished this mission, I promised myself to take the longest nap of my life.

I entered the cockpit, surprised to find a someone already manning the main console, donned in the burgundy jumper and domed helmet of an RSF pilot.

"Oh," I exclaimed. "I thought I would be alone on this mission,"

"Not to worry, sweetheart," the pilot said, revving up the ship's engines. "It'll just be you and me for a while."

I recognized that voice…The pilot swiveled around in his seat and I found myself facing the smug smile of none other than Captain Jonash Solo.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _I know it's not a super long chapter but gosh, this was a super tough chapter to write! Please let me know if it's too confusing or inconsistent. I know I just threw a lot at you guys in a very short chapter duration...so reviews on this would be much appreciated. That way I can tailor and polish it as I go forward. Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up in about two weeks._


	8. Fugitives

**THE EARLY DAYS DUET:**

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

 _Chapter Seven – Fugitives_

* * *

 _AN: I have reemerged! Fleeting for now, as I am fast approaching my final month as an undergraduate student. Done by December, then I'll be a real-life adult with time on my hands! That's the delusion that keeps me going anyway. I've missed this story so much and I'm eager to continue it. Enjoy this next chapter! My attendance here will continue to be tentative until I complete all my college commitments between now and December. But I've been doing a lot of story-outlining between homework assignments, so expect MOAR ANGST AND SABEWAN TENSION YAY._

* * *

I reached for my blaster on instinct. My Q2 wouldn't do any form of damage since Todo's memory component blocked plasma from emitting through the weapon's chamber. But Jonash didn't know that, and I was more interested in using intimidation to force his compliance.

"Hey now, take it easy," Jonash said, daring to rise from his seat in the cockpit. "I don't want any trouble." He pointed lightly at his throat, then at me, silently reminding me of my surgical implant that was still actively listening for any treachery.

I hesitated, catching the hint. So he knew about my comlink. Knew that I didn't want to get busted any more than he did.

We were at an apparent impasse. Solo couldn't risk getting caught, and _I_ couldn't risk having my only escape route slip from my fingers by revealing his presence. Either way, in order for both of us to get what we wanted, we'd have to make a convincing exchange of normalcy.

Jonash sustained his position, giving me a pointed look while I wavered, grimacing in indecision.

I kept my weapon pointed at him, but complied with the demands of yet another damned charade. This was not a friendly compliance, but a necessary one.

"My apologies," I said tightly. "I've been a little on edge today."

"I can tell," Jonash replied. "Rough day at the office?"

"Something like that."

"I've had my fair share of those," he said. His voice exuded charm and pleasantry, but his eyes stayed riveted toward my blaster. "Superior officers can be a real pain in the ass."

I held my ground, every ounce of me coiled with silent rage and frustration.

"I was told I would be doing this mission alone," I said, repeating my earlier malcontent.

"Alone for the mission, yes. But someone's gotta _get_ you there first."

"I'm a capable pilot."

"I'm sure you are, but we were both given direct orders. Pesky, I know. But hey, it's all part of the job."

Part of the job…Did he even _know_ that he was my intended target? Why in blazes was he even here? I got the nagging suspicion that he was here to help me…or was it perhaps the other way around?

I went silent, stubbornly unwilling to continue in the fake-rapport any longer. We were wasting precious time.

Jonash gave a grunt of irritation. "Could you _please_ put the weapon down? You field agents are so jumpy."

I glared at him disdainfully, but obliged the request.

"Thank you," he said, though his tone suggested ungratefulness. It was clear that even he wasn't all too happy about this new predicament.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he said emphatically, "I've got a ship to launch. I'll bet you're itching to get to hyperspace just as much as I am."

My face cleared in realization. We'd be out of comm range as soon as we reached hyperspace. No one would be able to listen in from my implant. I'd still have a tracker attached to me, but by gods! I could have an unmonitored conversation with no risk of being overheard.

"I'll leave you to it then," I replied as nonchalantly as I could. I reached for the nearest chair and settled into it.

Jonash resumed his place at the helm, clacking aggressively at the keys of the console. The ship jerked in sudden acceleration. As the ship roared to life and began its ascent, I was rattled in accordance to the loud thrum of the repulsorlift.

Within minutes, we had breached the atmosphere and Jonash expertly charted our course. Time seemed to slow for a moment, then the stillness of space lurched into long lines of passing light. Unable to help myself, I stared transfixed at the sight that danced behind the cockpit's wide transparisteel window.

Hyperspace.

The sight of it left me in awe. Long rivulets of blue light danced languidly through the channel as we coursed through its limitless expanse. Occasionally, from behind the surging pull of our velocity, white light of stars peeked behind the undulating blue veins of hyperspace.

My only ventures through hyperspace had occurred only when I had been safeguarded in the windowless chamber of the Royal Cruiser. Every mission I was ever assigned thereafter had designated me solely to the confines of either Naboo terrain or Theed Palace.

I shook myself out of my trance, reminding myself of the importance to stay three steps ahead of any possible trap. That included my new cohort. We were finally out of frequency from my damned voyeurs at the RSF, so I intended to keep the upper hand in my standoff with Solo.

While he remained focused on his task at the console, I planted my blaster behind his shoulder. He stiffened in response.

"I take it you're not one for trusting people," he observed.

"Why in the hell are you here, Solo?" I demanded coolly.

"Well hey now, spitfire! Play nice," he volleyed defensively. "Dané sent me. I'm here to help."

"Dané?" I echoed, not quite believing my ears.

"Mm-hm. Freckles orchestrated this entire getaway for you right from the get-go," he elaborated.

"Why should I trust you? I have this distinct memory of you trying to keep us enthralled by your Falleen friend so that you could escape from us."

Jonash waved a dismissive hand. "Nousan was a thorn in my side. Believe me, I only sicked him on your lot so that I could get away from him _myself_."

"Strangely, that sentiment doesn't have me convinced that we're on the same side."

Jonash turned his head toward me and gave a lopsided smile, clearly amused at my expense. "So Dané didn't tell you, did she?"

"Tell me what?" I queried.

Solo swiveled in his seat and casually brushed my blaster away from him. He knew at this point that I had no intention of hurting him yet.

"Sweetheart, I may smuggle spice…but I also smuggle _information_. Dané and her fellow brigands of the Naboo Underground have been relying on my services for nearly a year now."

"Brigands?" I wasn't quite sure I understood what I was hearing. "The Naboo Underground is a government sanctioned militia," I refuted, "an asset protection program for the safety of—"

"It's an underground resistance," Jonash interceded bluntly. "Has been since the Reclamation. It fought against the corruption of the Trade Federation, and now it fights against the corruption of the government it sought to protect."

"And you're…what, their mole?"

"Nah, I'm just the messenger." Jonash reached under his chin to unclip his oblong helmet. Once he put the helmet aside, he raked his fingers aggressively through his thick brown hair.

I rubbed lightly at my temple, trying to process this new information. "How exactly did this come about? Dané has been under strict surveillance with the RSF, just as I have. There's no way she could have…"

"You of all people should know that where there's a will there's a way," Jonash said, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Dané must have told him about my insubordination too. "But…" I was still flummoxed; torn between which topic to divulge on next.

Jonash shifted his position, leaning forward with his elbows touching his knees. "Look," he said, "Here's what I know: According to my sources, this conspiracy you've been chasing runs far deeper than the Royal Security Forces—or even that Advisory Council of yours. If you're going to get to the bottom of this, you're going to need all the help you can get. Lucky for you, you have more allies than you think."

"Allies," I scoffed. "I still don't even know if it's safe to trust any of you. Including Dané."

"When you're dealing with revolutionaries, safe certainly isn't the operative word." Jonash said with a shrug. "Going in against the government is never a _safe_ option. We're all pretty insane to want to go through with this in the first place."

I side-eyed him warily. "What's your motive here, Solo? You're not from Naboo. Why go through with all of this for a government that you have no ties to?"

For a moment, his usual languid confidence melted away into something soft and sentimental. "My family," he said simply.

I was startled to catch my first glimpse of the true Jonash Solo. This was enough to convince me to re-holster my Q2. "Your family?"

"I want to do right by them," he said. "Start a new life. A _better_ life. After my first run-in with Dané, we struck a deal. I would serve as her informant, and she would find a way to get the Hutts off my back." The bravado returned to his face as he tossed me a wink. "Thanks for killing Nousan for me, by the way. Losing the Falleen enabled Dané and I to accelerate our plans."

"And…what exactly _are_ these so-called plans?"

Solo's face split into a wide grin. "Well, first we need to figure out how you're gonna kill me."

"You're joking," I said flatly.

"I would never joke about my own _murder_."

"Why not just hightail out of here?" I asked, ignoring the quip.

"Because the whole point of playing along with this assignment of yours is to get you off of the RSF's scent," Jonash explained. "You _are_ aware that they have tracking devices incorporated in this vessel, right? Not to mention that handy little comlink of yours."

My fingers traced the hidden contour on my throat. Right. As soon as we reached Corellia, I'd be under surveillance again. They wouldn't hear me, but they'd still be able to track me. I would have to keep playing their game.

"Not to mention, I'd prefer to be verifiably "dead" to the rest of the galaxy before I start my life fresh," Jonash added.

After a moment's pause, I squared my shoulders; newly set in my decision. "So what do you intend to have me do?"

"Well…how do you feel about blowing up a moon?"

* * *

We were still a day's ride out to Corellia. We had detailed our plan down to the minute for when we left hyperspace. But in the meantime, we had to take advantage of what time we could to prepare. Part of that included removing my comlink without damaging it. I had been instructed to lie down on a cot near the back of the ship while Jonash finagled with the wiring that nestled beneath the skin of my neck.

The cot on the chrome vessel was stiff and uncomfortable. It beheld no domestic luxuries like that of the Royal Star Cruiser. The automated doors were loud and slow upon opening, and the ventilation shafts puffed gusts of cool air in arrhythmic, noisy spurts. The raucous tremors of the ship indicated just how little money the RSF invested in intergalactic transportation.

Between the rumbles of the ship, and the ceaseless internalization of my thoughts, white noise saturated every crevice of my mind. Despite my effort to appear calm, the commotion was too distracting.

"So were you a surgeon before becoming a spice pirate?" I asked, trying to mask my apprehension with idle conversation.

Jonash paused to glare at me. "That's _smuggler,_ thank you," he retorted. "There's a difference." He resumed his prep work from the other side of the cot, and continued. "And no. in my line of work, it's not uncommon for materials to be smuggled from inside a person. I'm no stranger to this sort of thing."

Fair enough, I thought. I silenced, giving him leave to focus while he completed his task.

Jonash turned around, armed with small, surgical utensils and a vial of numbing anesthetic.

"I honestly can't believe you'd choose to be _awake_ for this," he said shaking his head. "Is it that you still don't trust me, or…?"

"I trust you to do what needs to be done," I allowed, "but I'd rather not sleep just now."

"I can't fathom why," he replied. "This is probably the only opportunity you'll have for that sort of thing."

I stared ahead at the ceiling panels above my cot. "I don't like what happens when I sleep," I confessed.

"Well that was cryptic," Jonash said. "I'd ask to elaborate, but I'd rather you stop talking so I can get this over with."

"I have a bad feeling about this," I grumbled. I lifted my chin to give him better access to my throat.

"Have a little faith," Jonash scorned. "This comlink's not gonna remove itself you know."

I felt the prick from the vial, then gradually succumbed to the loss of feeling altogether. There was something calming in that lack of sensation. I felt my mind drift, feeling heady and dazed while my body remained immobile.

When the anesthetic finally began to command my body's lethargy, the fear and anxiety suddenly felt like a muted hum. My limbs lost their feeling, my eyes fluttered shut, and my heart finally found a palliated meter. Even my ears no longer felt attuned to the mechanic tics of the vessel. Within minutes, my consciousness drifted towards a foggy semblance of sleep. From the back of my mind, I realized what Jonash had done, and in frustration I tried to fight it, but my vision tunneled into a heavy, black veil.

"Welcome back, Sabé."

My eyes struggled to focus as I reopened them.

Was I awake again? Medically induced sleep had a tendency to make the passage of time completely illusory, but this seemed…different.

Sparks of orange and bronze flickered past my line of vision, whimsical and ethereal.

Minrota.

But of course. It would be foolish to think I could avoid her forever. Anesthesia was powerful stuff, but it couldn't hold a candle to Minrota's persistence.

I let out a groan. "Not you again. My day is bad enough as it is."

"I come only when summoned."

"Well it sure isn't _me_ who summons you." I groused. "It doesn't seem to matter how abundantly clear I make myself; you still refuse to leave me alone." With a jaded sigh, I eased myself upright from my cot. My action gave me a moment's pause. My surroundings hadn't changed like they had during Minrota's previous encounters. Apart from the waiflike presence of Minrota, everything else was…normal; right down to the irregular gusts of air ejecting from the vents.

"Am…am I still awake?" I asked, flummoxed.

"You bestride the realm of both worlds," Minrota replied. Her lips never moved, but her voice still echoed clear like crystals in my head.

I shot her a spiteful look. I had no patience for any more word games today. "Elaborate, please."

To my surprise, she obliged me. "Your abilities continue to grow. The more you use your gift, the more capable you are of discerning your vantage between dimensions."

"Oh, finally something optimistic." I grumbled, rising from my position. "Why are you even here?" I asked. "You keep popping up, begging me to embark on some cryptic crusade, and every time I tell you no, you just throw more visions at me. What gives?" Before she could reply, I held a scornful finger her direction. "No philosophizing."

"Philosophy is not why I have been summoned."

I crossed my arms, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. Was she…letting me dictate the conversation? That alone felt more surreal than any other interaction I'd ever endured with her while in this state.

"I bring information," she stated. The slight tilt of her head caused the long jewels that hung from her headpiece to glint a little.

"It'd better be relevant information," I said, my tone biting. "I don't know if you're fully aware of what goes on in my waking world, but I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment."

"You are a conduit between worlds. What influences you in one world irreparably affects the other." Minrota paused at this. "Your waking world has damaged you," she acknowledged, almost sadly. "You are more volatile since our last encounter."

My skin prickled in response, though I was unsure if it was due to my rising anger or my imminent fear. Volatility was hardly a word I would assign myself to. I was…unhinged, certainly. But volatile? I couldn't afford to feel that way. There was too much at stake.

"Your senses must be off kilter," I bluffed. "I feel fine."

"I sense a growing fear in you." Minrota said intently. "Use it with care, Sabé. The coming times will assuredly catalyze your abilities. You _must_ remain aware of how your feelings affect your actions. Now more than ever."

"It's not like I'm a Jedi," I retorted, pulling out the Zenda stone emphatically. "This stupid Force amulet of yours is just taking advantage of me."

Minrota shook her head. "No Jedi, certainly. But no Sith, either. You hail from a long line of force sensitives. We call ourselves Wielders."

"Wielders?" I repeated, newly captivated by what she had to say—and mildly surprised that what she was saying was _finally_ beginning to make sense. I hoped it would be consistent.

"We are acolytes of The Ones. We serve as both warriors of the night and sentinels of light. We strive to both inhabit and bind the opposing energies of the Force. Our mission, our very destiny, is to maintain the bond between the Dark Side and the Light, until balance is restored to the galaxy."

I had no idea who The Ones were, nor had I ever heard of any kind of force-sensitive that _didn't_ wholly embrace one end or the other of the Force's dichotomy. I found this new information both striking and invigorating. And yet…

I looked back down at the stone as it continued to glow bright and hot in the presence of its former owner. There was no way I was a part of such a legacy. My abilities never even manifested until I had obtained the Zenda stone.

I repeated this to Minrota. "No one in my family has ever been force-sensitive," I expounded, "and no Jedi has…" I faltered, realizing my statement to be Jedi _had_ sensed the change in me. I recalled the day when Obi-Wan Kenobi eased me gently out of my vision in Ferentina. But even then, neither of us could make sense of what was happening or why.

"Your skills are latent, but powerful," Minrota replied. "Wielders have been dormant since the Battle of the Nine." My gaze drifted to the narrow scar that seared Minrota's ghostly lips, recalling my vision of Minrota as a younger being as she led against the advances of the near-corporeal shadows that sought to overcome Ancient Naboo.

Minrota continued, "The fate of the galaxy is on the cusp of transformation. The return of the Sith nestles in the underbelly of darkness, eager to uproot the balance we have worked so hard to contain."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

"You weren't ready to hear the words I tried to say."

I supposed she might have had a point there. This was the first time I was even remotely inclined to listen to her. I wondered if that meant that my receptiveness directly influenced my mind's translation of her logic.

 _It's as real as you make it,_ she had told me. Back then, I was too terrified; too stubborn, overwhelmed and confused to bother trying to understand. Now that I was desperate to get answers—for _everything_ —my mind was more yielding to variables I had once thought to be indomitable.

"Your time of tribulation has only just begun, Sabé. Be wary of where your heart lends itself to."

"Thanks for the warning, but I think I've got a handle on this," I countered, not fully believing myself.

"Not yet," her eyes warmed with encouragement. "But you will, in time."

Then she faded from sight. The Zenda stone cooled to normalcy, reverting to its deep shade of garnet-red.

I was once again alone.

I pressed my palms against the edge of the cot where I sat, leaning slightly forward in contemplation.

I am a Wielder.

Now that I knew my force capabilities weren't symptomatic as I had first thought, I was left with no other choice but to learn how to harness these new growing powers of mine.

I rubbed at my throat, suddenly feeling a dull twinge of pain. As soon as my fingers grazed against freshly sewn stitches, I froze. Was I back in the waking world?

I glanced at my bedside table and noted the small circuitry that piled in a small knot of wires and metal. A miniscule light pulsated slowly from the comlink, indicating that it was still online. Surgical utensils and stained cloths were set in a row alongside the comlink.

My eyes roamed further, then caught the scribbles of a haphazard note left next to the remains of my extracted implant.

 _Sorry, spitfire. The procedure went way smoother while you were put under. You can be mad all you want, but it was for the best._

"Damn you, Jonash," I harrumphed, crumpling the note before making my way back to the cockpit. My steps were still weighted and groggy from the fading effects of the medication. Luckily it wasn't a long walk to my destination.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Jonash exclaimed upon my return.

I grunted into the copilot seat and shot him a glare. "I got your note."

"Apology accepted?" He asked humorously.

"Still deciding."

Jonash was unfazed. I felt the ship give another shudder as we continued to propel through hyperspace. "You were asleep longer than I thought you'd be," he noted. "We're almost to Corellia."

"Good," I said.

The ship tremored again, as though it was working hard to keep up to pace in faster-than-light speed.

"Smooth ride," I remarked a bit snidely.

"Well, shortcut- routes in hyperspace can be a little dodgy," Jonash replied. "Especially if the course was charted to avoid being seen."

"Seen by whom, exactly?" I asked. "We're already being tracked by people we want to avoid in the first place."

"You're an undercover agent committing an act of galactic treason," he said snidely.

Right. I held my tongue, not wanting to admit embarrassment for not having thought of that. I hated to admit it, but I needed him. My thoughts were scrambled from everything that had happened within the past day. His level-headedness was the only thing keeping me alive.

"Making our approach," Jonash said, switching gears on the console.

I let out a shaky breath, anticipating Corellia's lush planet to come into full view.

The moon was small, uninhabited, and cloaked by the shadow of Corellia as it made its orbit into a lunar eclipse. Jonash docked the ship in a hangar constructed on one of the moon's many craters.

"That's no moon," I snarked. "That's a boulder."

"Size matters not," Jonash wagged a finger as if to chastise me. "It's a drop off point for smuggled merchandise," he explained. My crew remains unseen while the research clinic that occupies the moon gives us coverage in case the government ever comes sniffing around."

"You're a fool-proof enterprise," I said drily. I didn't care to learn trivia about a place that we'd soon obliterate. "You're sure no one else is on this moon?"

"Positive," Jonash said. "Don't worry, all the necessary arrangements have been made, sister."

I nodded. I kept forgetting we weren't as alone as I originally thought. Nonetheless, his reassurance didn't stop me from muttering that I had a bad feeling about this.

"Still got Dané's datapad?"

I nodded.

"Good. Follow the coordinates."

"You know where they lead?" I asked.

Jonash cracked a smile. "Not a clue," he said. "But that's half the _fun_ , isn't it?"

I harrumphed. "You sure you're not a pirate?"

"Smuggler," he corrected lightly. He tossed me a comlink. "Use this if you need to get in contact. And don't forget your tracker, too."

"Don't insult me," I retorted.

Jonash punched the access panel to lower the gangplank. "See you on the other side," He said giving a small salute before exiting the spacecraft.

I stared ahead of me, gathering what I had left of my courage. Corellia loomed slowly over the horizon, taking over nearly a third of the sky as it drifted past smoggy clouds. The lunar eclipse made everything grow steadily darker, and I found myself strangely encouraged by this. I activated Dané's datapad and huffed out an anxious breath as the coordinates sprang to life on the screen.

Showtime.


End file.
